


Whipping Boy

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Brainwashing, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Psychological Trauma, Puppy Play, Torture, What Have I Done, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 106,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: The 'whipping boys' -- smart, every bloody last one of them, to be there at NIT -- with their caning marks laid hard across their shoulders and upper backs, fresh and scarred alike. He had a good supply of self dissolving sutures laid in for them, and a series of well worn advice on how to deal with Patrons who weren't getting the point of the arrangement.He remembered what that was like himself from his own experiences, but truth was Evan hadn't been perennially lazy with his assignments. After the time he had let himself be persuaded to be involved in a stunt that ended up with a full dozen of them in front of the Dean and a rather severe punishment for those involved or their whipping boys, Evan had tried really hard not to get into trouble.





	1. Chapter 1

Working in a university clinic was at least always interesting. 

Some of the injuries and illnesses that he came across were from a lack of common sense, or poor hygiene. A lot of them were from stupid things, like people trying to make spaghetti in a coffee pot and cutting their hands up when the pot inevitably grew too hot and broke. He remembered those days, not that far removed from them himself, so the source of their injuries were usually easy to work out, easy to treat, and easy to advise them on. 

Some of them were favorites, too. There was a young girl, daughter of a French diplomat, who was a musical prodigy. She popped by once a week, looking for a magical cure for carpal tunnel that wasn't better wrist posture and rest between her practices. Francis, one of the other doctors in the rotation, had suggested not lightly that perhaps Evaline had more than a little crush on him. Carson suspected no such thing, except that perhaps Francis got a rise out of trying to embarrass or scandalize him. 

There were regulars, too. The 'whipping boys' -- smart, every bloody last one of them, to be there at NIT -- with their caning marks laid hard across their shoulders and upper backs, fresh and scarred alike. He had a good supply of self dissolving sutures laid in for them, and a series of well worn advice on how to deal with Patrons who weren't getting the point of the arrangement. 

He remembered what that was like himself from his own experiences, but truth was Evan hadn't been perennially lazy with his assignments. After the time he had let himself be persuaded to be involved in a stunt that ended up with a full dozen of them in front of the Dean and a rather severe punishment for those involved or their whipping boys, Evan had tried really hard not to get into trouble. 

Evan had literally been ill with remorse which had been some small comfort to Carson as he'd been recovering himself from the flogging warranted for such a stunt. At least in Evan he'd had a patronage assignment with a conscience. He was pretty sure some of his regulars had lazy bastards, pure and simple, who netted them the compulsory 2 strokes for non-submission of assignments, or 1 stroke for each non-attendance and on and on. 

Poor sods. 

The most he could do for them was wish them luck, and advise that sometimes it *is* just easier to do their patron's work. They were usually undergraduates, but some of them were graduate students, upper level ones who needed the money and connections perhaps even more than the lower level whipping boys. 

Which he supposed was why Rodney McKay was lingering in the doorway of the examination room, posture awkward in a way that made Carson's own back ache sympathetically. Williams had said that McKay was a regular to the clinic, had been for years -- now he was a regular who tended to wait for Carson to have open hours in the clinic rather than one of the other doctors. 

He wasn't sure why, unless it was the fact that he had, against what was technically the clinic rules, offered him one of the spare pastries that Evaline sometimes brought in and a coffee afterwards because he was usually doing his clinic hours at strange hours. Early morning or late night and most of the time it was quiet and he was grateful for the company. And of course with Rodney there was the opportunity that he might actually be on to something that would fulfill some of his patronage contract. 

"Rodney, come in. How are you?" 

"Not so well." He threw Carson a lopsided smile. His mouth was wide on his narrow face, and his smiles were full of teeth in the most harmless of ways. McKay closed the door behind him, limping into the office-cum-examination room. "I figured I should come by before I headed to the lab for the day. How're you?" 

"Another dawn shift in the clinic with all its accompanying wonders," Carson said dryly. "Let's just say I managed another chapter on my dissertation over the last couple of nights. Up on the bed here, let's have a look at you. On your back?" 

"Mmm." Rodney moved decently quickly, the sort of speed Carson expected from someone who was really hurting and trying to seem as if they weren't. He started to unbutton his shirt, fingers sliding haltingly over the buttons, then stopping to undo the cuffs. He always looked sharp dressed, even that insanely early in the morning. It was what Carson considered a sign of someone trying to stretch the class barriers with sheer force of will. 

He knew what that was like. His father had stressed the difficulties often enough and he had been close to slipping back down that class level himself. 

"You really should refer your patron to the counselors or... get the Patronage Abuse Society involved. I'm sure that they could intervene or at the least try and ensure they get some guidance in realizing the consequences of what they are doing," Carson said as he did every time and then winced as he saw his first sight of this particular punishment. "Good Lord... he must've been caught plagiarizing or something." 

The marks were fresh and deep this time, almost vicious. The deans on the whole were as gentle as they could be, and still be within the boundaries of fairness, unless it was a truly heinous offence. And the marks stretched low on his back, the edges of two strikes disappearing beneath his beltline. 

McKay only gave him a vaguely confused look. "That'll be the day." 

That was something he was going to have to write up. The Code of Corporal Punishment said that no matter the internal institutions policies, any marks straying out of the prescribed boundary had to be written up and filed to the monitoring agencies. 

Carson suspected they went in the waste bin immediately but he had to fill it out. After he'd seen to it all. "Well then, let's get these seen to then shall we? I'll just numb them before I clean them up and dress them." 

It was a funny thing for Rodney to say though. Hmm. He often wondered who the guy was so he could perhaps have a quiet word with them. "So Rodney, what are you working on this week?" he asked as if he was just making conversation. 

"I have a stack as high as your desk of *asinine* undergraduate research project proposals to evaluate. The problem is that none of them think that they could really get funding for their projects, so they either dream insanely big, or it's yet another behavioral experiment on mice because they don't care to put any thought into it." He stretched forwards a little, leaned his elbows on his knees in a bracing position so Carson could tend to the angry stripes. "Whenever I'm done with them, I should have some time to work on my wormhole modeling program." 

"Oh really?" Carson said and got out his numbing spray local anesthetic. "Is that coming along well? I remember you saying something about...was it difficulties with processing phase space calculations?" 

He wasn't sure what it meant, but he did know that when he'd reported it, he had practically heard half of the SGC prick their ears up. "This will sting a moment, sorry Rodney." 

"'s okay." From behind him, he saw Rodney's jaw go tight, readying himself for the antiseptic. "I had to take a week to reconfigure the computers to handle the calculations simultaneously. Someone thought I was working on a Lund model and not *actual* string theory, and cut my processing clock allowance." 

"Not very helpful of them," Carson said soothing over Rodney's back even as he used the spray that would sting and then numb. 

There was something odd about the injuries. They didn't look like they were made with a regulation lash, or cane. 

And it was early morning and unless they had changed the Punishment schedule, there was no dawn session on a Monday. Dawn sessions were Saturday mornings, and every second Sunday morning. The marks bloomed too much for a cane, tapered slightly from top to bottom -- they cut in harder at the tops of each stripe, shallower towards the bottom and some of Rodney's back looked frayed over top of his older scars. 

"Not really, no. Lund models are only related to string theory in that the word ëstring' comes up in both," Rodney scoffed quietly. 

He needed to work out who Rodney's patron was. 

"Well, it's all Greek to me," Carson said. "What will your program do when it is done?" 

He picked up a swab and very meticulously cleaned where the skin was broken. He'd once had an infection from a sloppy clean up and it hadn't been pretty. It made a minor tardy punishment into a protracted illness. Colonel Lorne had had a few things to say about that once Evan had reported it.

The personal surrogate system, as it was known in more politically correct circles, wasn't supposed to be one that caused undo suffering -- it was and *wasn't* what whipping boys were for, according to what Colonel Lorne had said. It was about teaching men like Evan responsibility for themselves and their fellow man and that the word Duty applied to real human beings. It was meant to instill bonds of loyalty across the class divide and allow those who had merit in the lower classes a means of advancing themselves. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't, but it had caught on in Evan, at least. 

"It should prove that a transversable wormhole can be created. It won't create it, but it'll show that my theory is sound at least." 

"If I know you Rodney, I'm sure that it is sound," Carson replied as he concentrated. "Wormholes sound fascinating even to a doctor like me. Stepping from one place and reappearing on... in another place." 

He had to be more careful with how he phrased things. 

"One day, maybe we'll see it happen. But the theoretical basis should at least be proven. I'll get it to work. It might take a while, but it'll work." He sounded calmer, more together, as he talked about his personal projects. 

"I'm sure it does." Carson said and cleared his throat. "Rodney, could you loosen your pants please? There are a couple of welts out of bounds if you know what I mean." 

He couldn't see Rodney's face, but he could see the muscles of his back tense, and he straightened up slightly, unbuckling his belt. "Sure. Just, uh." Then Carson heard the zipper going down, before Rodney leaned forwards a little and inched down his pants. The welts weren't the disturbing part, not really. It could have been the fact that McKay was only wearing a jockstrap under his pants, or it could have been the bruises that curled to either side of the marks that crept too low. 

That was not indicative of normal punishment. Not from anyone he had seen at the University so far. Medical students practically cut their teeth on this sort of thing so he knew the signs of excessive force. And a deliberate strike rather than something going astray from inexperience. 

He used the numbing spray again. "Rodney, who administered this punishment?" he asked finally after a moment's pause. 

"It was an, uh, in house thing." Rodney took in a slightly harder breath, leaning elbows on knees again. "Sometimes, you just screw up." 

"You could file a complaint," Carson urged him seriously. "One of the reasons for public sessions is that they have to abide by certain boundaries. Whoever administered this went significantly beyond those boundaries unless you were caught... I don't know stealing, or causing malicious harm and I sincerely doubt that from you Rodney." 

He was quiet, and McKay was never quiet if you got him in the right mood. "I'm not going to file a complaint. It was just a stupid mistake and we argued and it got a little rough." 

Carson sighed a little. "I wish you would, for your own sake," he said quietly. Right then he wasn't thinking about ulterior motives or anything, just protecting a brilliant young man who should've been a blazing star in the university. "But, part of my oath is not to interfere with due process... doesn't mean I have to like it though." 

And that he wasn't tempted. 

"He's been my patron for over a decade. And while I appreciate your intentions, he's generally done well by me. The occasional..." Rodney waved a hand lazily. "I mean, I did almost cost him three months of research." 

Research meant that he couldn't be a whipping boy for an upper class scion as he had been assuming. Stupid of him, he should have known better than to assume. 

"Even so Rodney, there are rules. I will be giving you an exemption chit for a minimum of three days," Carson said as he dressed the injuries having satisfied himself that they were clean. "No patronage service for three days." He'd never given one out to Rodney before - very few were issued because the paperwork involved was ridiculous and if there was a challenge to the decision doctors had been known to lose their jobs. 

But it seemed like it was worth it, just so Rodney could have time to heal, or rest, or whatever else he needed to do. The reaction was usually joy, or verbal relief, but Rodney straightened up in a jerk, twisting to stare at Carson. "No, what are you, crazy? I live with him. I, I don't want an exemption chit." 

"You can stay in the Infirmary as it is medical issued. Rodney, if you think it feels bad now, tomorrow will be worse when the bruising comes out," Carson cajoled. "I'm, I'm concerned about you. Your patron should be treating you well, not like this. Please Rodney, consider it." 

"He does treat me well -- I told you, I almost cost him three months worth of work, and it was a stupid mistake, and he's apologized for what he did. I come down here because I don't want to get an infection, not because I need you, I don't know, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong and really starting something problematic. I don't want a chit." His jaw was set, and he didn't seem about to turn around even if having his back twisted like that had to hurt the fresh wounds. 

"Fine, fine..." Carson backed off because he had the distinct feeling that if he didn't, he would never see Rodney again and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. "I'll take my nose out of it. Would you like a coffee? I have some iced donuts that need finishing up?" 

Rodney twisted back around, and hiked his pants up, covering his ass and rebuckling his belt. His hands moved unsteadily -- what Carson was suggesting had probably given him the scare of his life, if Rodney thought that his patron might react unkindly towards a chit. The next time he saw Rodney, he'd have to be more careful. Or more forceful. 

A or B. 

"I, uh. I should probably just go." 

"Chocolate iced donuts..." Carson tempted, not wanting Rodney to leave in that state. "Which I managed to keep away from Williamson at great personal risk, I can tell you. I don't share them with just anyone. Give the medicine some time to work." 

It got a quiet laugh out of McKay, and he ducked his head slightly, reaching for his shirt. "Okay. I can't say no to chocolate -- that'd probably be sacrilege." 

"Most definitely," Carson said with a smile as rinsed off his hands and just went ahead and poured out two coffee's and brought the box of donuts out he had been hording on the off chance that Rodney might come in. "When I eat one of these I can practically hear Evan telling me I'll have to do an extra five laps to make up for it." 

Another laugh, while Rodney pulled his shirt on in hitching motions. "Military, then? I think I've heard that line myself." 

"Mm... my father managed to secure patronage with the Lorne family and studied medical and served as a field medic alongside his patron," Carson rattled off. "It was a struggle, but he made it, and served his patronage service well so that there remained links between the Becketts and Lornes even after he made doctor. Well, then of course he managed to have a large family - I have six older brothers and sisters, you know, and with the best will in the world, my father couldn't afford for me to be paid into study. But fortunately by then Colonel Lorne had managed to work out the ins and outs of procreation and Evan was my age...." 

He shrugged, hoping his blathering was soothing Rodney down a little. "So, I ended up as a Lorne 'Whipping Boy' to make it through study following in my father's footsteps." 

Rodney finally got his shirt on, and twisted off the table, straightening himself before he reached unerringly for a donut. "I take it that worked out well, if you're here as a doctor." 

Carson passed over the coffee as well. "Aye, though there were a few hair raising moments in my field medic days. To be quite frank, I'm a lab doctor rather than a ërun around mountains occasionally falling off of them' doctor. That's why I'm here doing some genetic research and half paying for it with my clinic duties. But then I'll hopefully be able to apply to some of the Government projects and I'll be set. Have you applied anywhere Rodney?" 

"A few places. I haven't heard back from anything." He pulled out a chair, and slouched into it, coffee cup held tight in one hand, donut in the other while he nibbled at it. "I have a sister. She's a school teacher, married a miner. I'm sure he'll die young from black lung like the rest of the town. And if that doesn't get him, I'm sure a pocket of gas will explode eventually and burn the place down." 

"You're from a mining town?" Carson asked. He couldn't imagine anyone more unlike a miner than Rodney. "Doesn't your file have a mention of claustrophobia on it?" 

"I can't stand cramped spaces. My father used to have me accompany him into some of the larger parts of the mines, because I had an interest in machinery." Rodney lifted his eyebrows slightly, taking a huge swallow of the coffee Carson had passed him. "I couldn't have stayed up there." 

"Aye, well a mine is not a good place for a claustrophobe," Carson replied knowing he was stating the obvious. But it was all about harmless sounding conversation. "But then, your math and astrophysics and engineering are a long way removed from mines. I am no judge but I think even I can tell you are talented." 

"I am. I'm more than talented, I'm brilliant." The lack of modesty in the statement took Carson aback for a moment because it was so in contrast to the way he normally held himself, and Rodney didn't seem to notice as he chewed his donut. "I mean, they dismiss anyone working in string theory as a crack pot because new, hard to understand science is baffling to idiots. It's easier to dismiss than try to understand, but I'm really onto something. You don't have almost two doctorates at my age unless you're smart enough to really belong at NIT. I almost ended up filed into military service, actually, because there was this incident with a school science fair and my building a functional nuclear device. Apparently no-one appreciates allusions of pre pubescent terrorists." 

"I can understand that," Carson said. And to think his school science fair projects had been on DNA and petri dishes. Cross-bred beans. "Well, military isn't as bad as people make it sound. I know they go on about how patronage service to the military can get you killed or seeing action, and that doing boot camp training can be rough... Which it was, I can tell you, especially when you have a reckless patron to keep an eye on, uh, you know I think I've just talked myself out of my point." 

"I turned 26 last month. I could still do it. Sometimes..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders slightly, finishing off the donut. "Anything if it could mean that I could get one step closer. NIT is nothing to sneeze at, it *is* the best public research facility in the world, but." But whoever was supervising his computer use allowances was probably trying to subtly sabotage Rodney, and he looked frustrated. He looked like he was hurting, and his Patron shouldn't have put him into the position where he had to carry unnecessary physical harm along with his daily duties. He should have been nurturing Rodney's talent and accruing the kudos that the Patrons received for sponsoring a highly successful surrogate. 

"Would you like me to drop a word in with the Lornes and see if they know of any fast track access routes into government research? That's what they are going to do for me once I have this research portfolio," Carson offered. This was playing into his hands. If he could tempt Rodney a little, get him to loosen up some and consider breaking his Patronage contract for the SGC, he'd be doing them all a favor. He was sure the SGC would be willing to pay off any Patronage service debt for someone like Rodney. 

The SGC, Rodney, probably everyone in the world except for Rodney's patron. "I, uh..." Rodney took another swig of the coffee. He always drank if fast, like he was afraid he'd get caught at it. The donut was already demolished, just a smear of frosting on his fingers. "Acastus thinks I'm better suited to keep on at my research here and seek a professorship." 

Acastus... Acastus... it wasn't a name that leapt to mind but it was the first time Rodney had mentioned his patron by name. "Aye, I can see the reasoning, but one of the reasons I'm hoping to go that way is because there are unparalleled opportunities to see theory translate into *practice* in the military sector." He emphasized it, hoping to plant the seed in Rodney's head. Rodney was impatient for results; he usually talked about the annoyance of waiting. "I think I will be able to make practical gene therapies that will get used where as if I stay here, the facilities are good but the research becomes another pile of paper." 

"Huh, well, if you did, uh, ask around a little and something came of it..." He'd go with it. He'd leave, Carson could tell, because Rodney shifted nervously in the chair. The thought of moving on made him uncomfortable, but he did have that urge to see theory become more than a pleasant published paper to his name. "I'd, uh. Appreciate that." 

"I'll see what I can do Rodney," Carson assured him and smiled. Just like that, just when he thought he'd blown the whole thing... he managed to get his first nibble. 

And it didn't harm that he really felt that Rodney deserved better. Deserved protection, and care and he knew the expression on his face was not very professional but there were times Carson wished he could win the lottery so he could take on Rodney's Patronage himself. He wouldn't see the money until he completed his service and that would take too long. They could miss Rodney or lose him to Academia if they were not careful. "I want to check those injuries regularly. You'll come back tomorrow yes?" 

"Bright and early before the lab's open." Rodney shifted, seemed to take it as a cue to leave. He'd drained the cup of coffee, and he did lean forwards to grab another donut. "Thanks." 

"You're very welcome," Carson replied and then said honestly. "I'll look forward to it." 

And maybe if he settled a little more, he could wangle a lunch invitation with him or a drink or find out his lab and take him something. And that would be all him, not the talent-spotting patronage service for the SGC at all. 

Rodney was interesting, easy to talk to. It would be a pleasure to recruit him to the SGC, which was a lot more than Carson could say about most of the recruits he'd found so far.

* * *

Sometimes, talking with other people made him feel sick inside. 

There wasn't any real reason for it, that slow, creeping feeling that settled in his stomach, or fluttered sometimes at the back of his chest, like a mental palpitation that no equation could predict. The anxiety and delight of eating a donut, one and then another, that was quantifiable. That was... reward being the sum of fear times anticipation, divided by actual probability of being caught, times freshness. R = (F*A/c)*fr. He wasn't going to be caught out at an early morning visit to the clinic, because Acastus had a routine that was a thing of well timed beauty. 

But the way Doctor Beckett had been talking, Rodney had felt that strange sick feeling, nerves and he didn't know what else twisted together because he'd been going to give Rodney a chit and if he was excused from his duties for at least three days, he didn't know what he'd do. He didn't know what Acastus would do, and that was a little more important because he'd never missed a day of his duties to Acastus. His own schedule was just as clockwork, predictable and soothing because he knew he should never be late going home. 

Bad boys were late, and Rodney wasn't. He was good, he was good and Acastus was sorry because it *had* just been a spilled drink, but Rodney had agreed that it *could* have ruined the backup CD and it was, it was careless of him to spill things. 

He was going to be less careless that night. He was going to be precise and perfect, because it was Acastus's long lecture night. He had office hours through the late afternoon and he came home late from the night course he taught. He wanted dinner and attention, and it was as easy as breathing. 

At home, there was no-one who talked to him and made his chest go strange, no-one to coax out words he didn't really want to say, treacherous things like ëI want to leave' that he never said but they were there in his head, and they left him thick with the guilt of it because if Acastus hadn't agreed to be his Patron, he'd be a dead nothing in a mining town, he'd be a silent still gravestone because he would have had to blow his brains out just to end the monotony of tight walls and coal dust and the unending hellish danger of it. 

Now he had a different kind of monotony, and sometimes he looked at Acastus' guns and just... wondered. Wondered and charted out trajectories in his head, how his brain would end up on the walls and in what places dependent on the angle of the gun, and it was really... really a bad thought for him to be having, but his back was hurting and he'd wanted to take that chit and hide for three days and just work on his research. But it was only ever going to be research because the head of the department had his fucking head up his ass and thought that Rodney was a crazy young know it all who didn't know anything at all, not really, and kept fucking with his work, and that, that took a different trajectory entirely but as much as he wanted to he never would. As long as he was at NIT, it would all be paper, theory that would go unproven and he'd just go on like he was, making dinner, waiting for Acastus to come home. 

Sometimes, too, he wanted to *be* Acastus. He was satisfied with himself, with his life, and Rodney wanted that. Sometimes he was satisfied with how things were, comforted, but his back was an agony and that fucking head professor had screwed with his settings and he was one week set back again because some smartass thought they were doing him a favor by discouraging his ëwaste of time' research direction. At least he kept the defaults and the code itself backed up onto his laptop, and the bastard couldn't get to that. 

He heard the whining bark before he saw Waffle, awake from his nap after the walk Rodney had taken him on after he'd come home, and it was a relief to have him there, because there was something wrong with the way he was thinking. Dinner was done, it could wait, just like they'd wait for Acastus to come home, but he needed help because he didn't *really* want to blow his brains out, but sometimes, sometimes, when Acastus hit him like the night before, it, it was there and it wasn't a solution at all except he was tired and frustrated and... 

There was the skitter of nails on the tiled floor and Waffle came hurtling in, his tail wagging anywhere within a 360 degree arc because it seemed a horizontal line did not have the right sort of scope to demonstrate the young dog's enthusiasm.

He made his happy welcome home noises and tried to lick him to pieces by way of a greeting.

Waffle seem to think Rodney was the most wonderful person that ever existed. Sometimes, Rodney needed that. Needed and wanted that reassurance and comfort, and as messed up as his head felt, there was nothing for him to do but get down on the ground and wrap his arms around Waffle. Dinner was ready and Acastus would be home soon and everything would be okay. It would. "Good boy, yeah, who's my good boy...?"

Waffle was still a bit rangy, and his ear had a tendency to flop - which Acastus toyed with doing something about but he had been a pedigree as his predecessor had been. He missed Willard when he finally had to be put down. Waffle snuffed at him, and then licked his fingers where he had had the illicit donuts enthusiastically.

There was no way that Waffle could know. He'd had those donuts hours ago, back at 7 am, and it was 9pm, and there was no way he could know because Rodney had washed his hands with antibacterial soap twice, but he was still licking at his fingers like he could taste it, like Rodney could still *imagine* the taste of it. "Yeah, you're my good boy, I'd never leave you, no..."

Which was a complication. He tried not to even admit to those thoughts let alone 'problem solving' connected with it. 

He ought to put on the vegetables soon -- they generally weren't locked away. Maybe Acastus would be in a better mood and willing to put some more of the numbing spray on him after dinner.

Waffle backed away a moment and then ran off and brought a toy back just in case he felt inclined to play.

And Rodney wasn't, not really, but it was one of those things that he felt better if he did, like smiling. Eventually it caught on inside his own head. So once the green beans were safely in the microwave, timed for five minutes -- then he'd stop and stir -- he picked up the other end of the pull-toy that Waffle had brought in, got down on the ground with him.

The German Shepherd was chewing on the end thoughtfully trying to look nonchalant and then attempting a sudden pull that failed. He attempted to growl menacingly, but he really couldn't do menacing, especially not to Rodney, and especially when his tail was wagging like a plume. 

Mid way through the game though, Waffle stopped and dropped the toy, ears twitching for noise.

Acastus was home.

Rodney dropped the toy, too, and got up quickly to stir the green beans before he put them in for the rest of the time. He could hear the garage door closing, and it made his heart race a little, because he was glad Acastus was home, but there was always that wondering if he'd be in a good mood, if he'd be willing to put up with Rodney's oddities and possible disobediences. He got back down onto his knees, kneeling and waiting, glad that he didn't have to race into the bedroom and strip naked because he'd already had the foresight to do that when he'd come into the house.

Waffle came and sat next to him, practically leaning onto him for reassurance, watching the door as if god was going to appear before him. When it opened, he nearly got up, nearly went to the door but managed to remember to stay where he was, though he whined a little.

"Good evening boys," Kolya said as he came in and hung up his jacket and put his brief case on the table. He patted his leg, which was the permission to greet him, and Waffle bounded over immediately.

Rodney wished he could bound like that. That he had that kind of energy at the end of the day, that he was that carefree. That he wasn't, well, that was something wrong with *him*. He crawled forwards, fairly at ease on his hands and knees like that, and stopped in front of Acastus, kneeling again.

The familiar hand ruffled through his hair and he was aware of Acastus looking over his back. "You may serve," Kolya said which was his generic phrase that meant he could stand and speak as necessary. Usually a sign of a better mode. "You have had your injuries looked at Rodney?"

"Yes sir." Rodney leaned forwards, resting his forehead against Kolya's leg. It felt good to be that close, just for a moment.

"Were they thought too serious?" Acastus asked in his concerned voice.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded against his leg. "The doctor wanted to give me a chit, but I didn't want it."

"An exemption?" Acastus stopped stroking him. "I see. You refused it, of course."

"Yes." He stayed where he was, breathing slowly, and he let his eyes close. "It hasn't been a good day."

"Then perhaps when you have served dinner and cleaned up, it would be best if you rested," Kolya murmured. "You will serve yourself a dinner as well -- we cannot have you getting sick."

Rest. He wanted to rest, and eat, or eat and rest, no particular order necessary. "Yes sir." He stood up, and twisted away, turned his back to Acastus so he could plate dinner and do it as fast as possible.

Behind him he could hear Acastus talking to Waffle in Russian or whatever it was, and the vegetables were about done and he wasn't going to have to spend his time on his hands and knees. 

He wasn't sure if he was mildly disappointed by that. At least when Kolya did that, Rodney was free to do whatever he wanted, and play with Waffle, or just flop out in a heap in front of the fire. Tonight that sounded attractive. Not having to think, not having to be caught between human and puppy, and just be a puppy, with none of the thoughts and worries and fears and uncertainties and that...

That was what he wanted. Needed, maybe. He served everything up for Acastus, first, then himself. "I think I've had too much rest today."

"Indeed?" Acastus sat and nodded for him to sit as well. "Eat. Perhaps then we will watch television together and have a relaxing evening." 

Which meant he would be allowed to lie up on the couch, half over Kolya as they watched his programs, and he wouldn't have to do anything. Not speak, or wonder what to do. Kolya knew it was one of his favourite things. He must be really sorry. 

He inclined his head slightly, sat down to start eating. He had to eat slowly, carefully, but not too slowly, or else he wouldn't have had enough. It was a delicate balance, but it was something he was used to, something he had almost mastered. And he could rest, really... real rest, relaxing rest, with no threat to his being, and no way he could incur Acastus's unhappiness. 

He knew it was his fault for thinking sometimes the wrong way, because Acastus was right. Everything had been just perfect as long as he did as his Patron required. And he really was very well off compared to a lot of people. If he hadn't found Professor Kolya as a Patron he would never have come to NIT and would probably be constrained by his class band to working in the mine, maybe aspiring as high as Engineering Foreman if he was very lucky. 

And that would've been a torment beyond belief. He could not believe Jeannie hadn't gone for Patronage, and she had said cryptically that she would rather be barefoot and pregnant on her terms, rather than some strangers. 

He kept eating, head bowed. Waffle came around close to his legs, and rested his head on Rodney's bare knee, pressed close and happy. There was a lot of pleasure to be found in the closeness, in touch. It was settling, and as far as settling things, it was all Rodney had to rely on. 

The meal passed quietly, and Rodney collected his plate and Kolya's to wash them while Kolya headed for the living room. There was news to be watched, and Kolya never missed some of those pundit shows, because he did have that current events class twice a week. Rodney had an early morning -- well, relatively early -- lecture the next morning, but he was always prepared and it wasn't as if there were any huge physics breakthroughs liable to happen that he didn't already have his fingers on the pulse of.

It was easy to slink into the darkened living room, easy to move by the light of the television, towards the sofa where Kolya was already sitting.

A pat on the sofa next to him was enough to get him up there. A non-verbal invitation that had Waffle looking up at them as if contemplating moving from in front of their simulated fire to join them. When he saw Rodney clamber up, he resettled and yawned.

It was peaceful.

That was why he stayed. 

Rodney didn't waste time in sitting down. He knew what he wanted to do, knew he wanted to fall into his favorite position, stretched out over the length of the sofa, and onto Acastus's lap. Rodney could touch him; feel the fabric of Acastus's pants against his chest, warmth and cold against the side of his face when he rested his cheek just above and against his belt buckle. It felt like coming home, and it made the worries of the day melt away. 

His hand stroked over him absently as the news droned on about rising military funding, and the ongoing wars that seemed to be requiring that funding. Familiar fingers threaded through his hair and it was like a license to relax. There was nothing for him to get stressed about here. It was just the endless now with the man who shaped and described the boundaries of his world. Gave him security and safety, calm and comfort. 

He couldn't handle trying to redefine the boundaries of his world. That was what he'd done wrong that day, he'd tried too much and it wasn't his to do. It was so much easier to just lay there and wallow in touch, Acastus' fingers moving slowly over his back, skimming the aching spots and then sliding past them to curl loosely on his ass. That was a good, seeping feeling, and he shifted closer, settling in. Acastus was half-hard, and he could feel that, too. 

Comfortable like that, it was hard to imagine why he'd want an exemption from it. 

It was only the nagging creeping suspicion that maybe it wasn't quite right. But then he would hear on the news or see on one of the crime shows about proteges or surrogates who met untimely ends, and of the hideous conditions that existed in other countries where they fought wars to stop places where all women had to have Patrons and remain covered at all times and were stoned on a whim. 

Acastus said what they did was normal where he came from, some fragment of the Soviet Union where the state alone acted as patron until it had crumbled. 

He'd defected before that had happened, Rodney knew. He'd defected because of inhumane conditions in the army and some espionage that he'd benefited from. It was men like Acastus who'd helped them win the cold war -- well, men like him and an inherently instable system, but... 

"Hnn." Fingers slid a little low, and Rodney couldn't help but edge closer to him, fingers pressing against Acastus's thigh. 

Acastus chuckled a little, a low dry sound over the noise of the TV. He didn't stop teasing though. 

Rodney shifted, squirmed; spread his legs to maybe coax Acastus to slide his fingers into him. It was a game they played sometimes, and it made it easy for Rodney to blank his mind finally, dick stirring to life. Work, his courses, his research, none of it mattered in the Now. Sex blanked it away, and feeling as good as he knew he could with his Patron made up for a great deal. It seemed to be working. The fingers wandered closer and closer, so he shifted again, squirmed a little towards those fingers, and pressed his forearm carefully down against Acastus' erection through his pants. Just pressure, just to let him know he was aware. 

"I don't know Rodney, maybe it wouldn't be good for you, too much straining," Kolya teased softly aloud as his fingers smoothed him again. 

Just over his ass cheek, just teasing pressure far from what he wanted. "Please..." He wanted it; he wanted sex, even if it was just petting like that, vague touches full of little intent. 

Kolya was looking down at him with a half smile. "How could I say no to those eyes, hmm? Just relax...we'll see how it goes." 

And his fingers were moving once again. 

Traveling, tracing idly. Rodney shifted again, legs spread a little wider, and he gave into it. It was easy to just force himself to relax, to just will himself to slide flatter across Kolya's lap. 

And if that incidentally rubbed over his groin that was all the better for him because it prompted his fingers to tease a little more firmly down his crack even as Kolya was apparently turning his attention to the news again. 

The news would still be there in fifteen, twenty minutes, but so would Rodney and Acastus had to know it, which was why he was still teasing like that. Rodney dropped his hips, pressed his erection against the cushion, and tipped his head down to sigh against Acastus' thigh. 

His patron seemed in no particular hurry, especially as he took his hand away for a moment and then the fingers returned, cool and slick. That was always promising. Especially as they started dipping in and out. 

Acastus was never without lube. 

It slid, pressed against his asshole, teased and pulled back and pushed in again, making Rodney want to do more than hitch back against him a little. But he knew what he could and couldn't get away with, and dragging it out like that felt just as good as rushing. 

Instead, he melted into it, yielding and giving to those fingers as they toyed with him, slowly and carefully. He knew every inch of him, every sensitive spot and exactly how to touch him. This was the benefits of familiarity. It felt good, and it was something Rodney would never, had never gotten bored of. Acastus slowly worked up from teasing at the edge of his asshole to sliding two fingers carefully in and out in and out, steady enough to make Rodney's dick and balls ache, but not so much that he *had* to move back yet.

He was tired and keyed up at the same time, and he made a soft noise of wanting that was a little like a whine. It seemed to get results as Acastus pushed deeper into him then.

So good, so, so good. He squirmed, wiggling down against the cushions. He liked the way that Acastus's fingers curled, twisting and pilling a little, making everything ache wonderfully. It wasn't as good as getting fucked, but it was *good*.

And the way the pair of them fucked, Kolya was probably right - his back wouldn't stand it, but right now the sex endorphins were flowing and the pain had faded down to an ache that was dull compared to the twitches of pleasure he was getting when a finger brushed over certain spots.

Acastus was toying around with him, but it wasn't *just* toying with him, he was headed for a goal. His fingers slipped, pressed, searching for Rodney's prostate, and between the constant, idle stroking and the grind of his dick against the cushion, he was already close.

And there it was, the jolting moment where Kolya exert pressure, milking the prostate with sudden intense concentration and attention, not taking any movement as a no.

There was going to be no 'no', because it was what Rodney wanted. He wanted to give up, give in like that, he wanted, fuck, he wanted to be fucked but fingers felt great and Rodney could feel it coming, could feel his balls drawing up tight, and he pushed his hips up against Acastus's fingers.

With the skill of experience the other man brought him to orgasm with a few harder pushes and encouragement. It would be a mess to clean up later off of the sofa, but for the moment, Rodney didn't care. He slouched, trying to catch his breath. He should, he should take care of Acastus, but for the moment he could be happy and sated.

For once Acastus did not seem too worried about that, allowing him to lie there and recover for a while. Eventually he glanced at him. "Clean yourself and then go to bed. You are tired. You may attend to this tomorrow. I will join you shortly."  
"Thank you." He murmured it, pressed his face against Acastus's thigh for a moment before he shifted, squirmed up to stand. There was a good chance that Waffle would follow him to try to play in the shower water.

* * *

Carson juggled the bag and the specialist coffees that were complete with cappuccino froth, and wondered if he had over done the "casual" gesture of dropping around with snacks. He couldn't really pass it off as 'hey, just passing' because Rodney's rat hole of an office was, he discovered to his chagrin, down a lot of steps, in the pokiest corner of the labs he had ever seen. 

Still, he wanted to branch out a wee bit from their relationship just being professionally injury-based. So here he was, with the best their local deli could offer in terms of a lunch and some coffee-latte-cappuccino thing his colleague swore was to die for. And of course a super size chocolate donut. 

He was pretty sure that would distract Rodney enough that he could just chat a little. 

Just a little, just to get more of a feel for him. He was *sure* that he was on the right path, but he was also sure that he needed a *little* more work done to verify before he did anything rash like making 'Acastus' disappear from Rodney's life. 

Rodney's office door was open, to start with, and he seemed hard at work, hunched over his laptop, fingers flying over the keys as he retyped or re-worked something he'd already written, with it set to one side. 

He knocked on the open door and loitered in the door way smiling. "Hello Rodney. Thought I'd make a house call." 

Not his most suave opening line, but he had a feeling that suave would go right over Rodney's head. 

"Oh, hey." The other man startled a little, and kept typing when he looked up at Carson. His eyes were bright, and he looked a little healthier than he had when he'd seen Carson the other morning. "Doctor Beckett, come in -- what can I do for you?" 

"Since I've left my white coat back at the clinic, why don't you call me Carson?" Carson said. "I was wondering if you fancied a spot of lunch...?" He raised the bag up, to indicate he had it there ready and waiting. 

"Oh, uh..." Rodney leaned up a little, his posture bizarrely prairie-dog like, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks, yeah, I was just thinking about getting some, uh... Thanks, Carson. Why don't you sit down?" 

"Thank you Rodney," he said and smiled at him. "I wasn't sure what you might like, so a bought a lot. If you don't like it, don't worry. Help yourself." 

He pushed the bag over. And from Rodney's expression he'd been right; Rodney was bizarrely susceptible to food. 

"Oh, I uh... wow, is that turkey?" Rodney leaned in a little, reaching to dig into the deli bag. He was a thin young man, not the sort that Carson would suspect for being so interested in food. 

"Aye, I believe so. I think there might be some soft cheese or some such dressing," Carson said. "And I'm rather partial to these crisps... sorry, chips. Thai sweet chili - very nice." He sat back and observed a moment. 

Rodney's fingers shook a little as he dug through it all, looking and surveying, setting it all out on his desk while he carefully shifted his laptop to the side, setting it over the papers he'd been typing from. "Jesus, this is a lot of food. I'm uh -- I'm not picky at all, but I'd hate for any of this to go to waste." 

"Don't worry about it. If we don't eat it, then I'm sure there will be some gannets at the clinic that will finish it up." Carson encouraged. "Oh, and try this... I'm not actually sure what it is, but Tricia says if you like coffee, this will make you think you are in paradise." 

"Oh, I uh, I don't get coffee much." Rodney reached for it, wrapping his fingers carefully around the paper cup's cardboard sheath. He almost clutched at it, staring at the cup. "I *like* it. I just..." He took a careful slurp, and moaned. "Oh, god, that's *sweet*." 

"It's not bad is it?" Carson said trying his own. "I have a weakness for over-indulging." He picked up his own sandwich. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important." 

"No, I was just tweaking it when I should have let it run. These are my office hours, but no-one ever comes." He shrugged, and took another sip of the coffee. It was funny to hear him so deeply enjoy it, so *obviously* enjoy it -- and why, if he liked coffee and sweet things, did Rodney never seem to get them for himself? Carson watched him reach for a sandwich, studying it before he tasted it. "So, uh, what brings you down here?" 

Carson smiled a little. "I felt like a little company for lunch. Particularly company that wasn't discussing the last boil they had to lance," he said taking a bit of his own sandwich. "I looked up on the staff schedules, saw it was your office hours and took a chance that you might be willing to have company." 

It should be obvious that he *liked* him. Like waving a flag obvious. Maybe Rodney needed the flag to be waved and a trumpet fanfare as well. 

"More than willing. I know I'd rather not hear about lancing boils. There are a lot of more interesting things to talk about." 

"Absolutely," Carson agreed. "Like you for instance." 

That was not so much waving a flag as beating Rodney over the head with it. He added a broad smile just to sweeten the flattery. "I'm, uh." Rodney laughed a little, chewing quickly on a bite of sandwich before he finished his sentence. "I'm not interesting. 

"You are to me," Carson said but his instinct made him not push his luck any further. "I know little about physics and maths, but I do know you are brilliant. And apparently nearly ready to defend double doctorates, so my gossips tell me. Is that right?" 

"Yeah. I'll be done soon, and whether or not they think I'm a crackpot..." He shrugged his shoulders. "My theories are sound and unfortunately a little un-provable. Astrophysics and Mechanical engineering. Guess which one's my easy degree?" 

"Uh... Astrophysics?" Carson said taking a wild and pretty random guess. "Do you have to actually build something for Mechanical Engineering?" 

"I have. It wasn't necessarily part of my requirements, but it was useful. It's a type of generator." Rodney flashed his teeth bright white, before he swallowed another mouthful of coffee. The food he'd taken, sandwich and coffee, were fast disappearing. 

Carson ate a little more slowly. "Oh aye? what type?" he asked even as he opened the bag of chips and stole a handful before putting them on the desk. He really did like them. 

Now that the bag was open, Rodney snuck out a hand and grabbed one, popping it into his mouth. "Self contained system that feeds off of low level radioactive isotopes. If I had something beefier to work with, I'd be all right, but it's portable nuclear power. On a tiny scale, due to -- well, I mean, you probably have a cell phone that's more radioactive." 

Carson nearly choked on a crisp. "You've built a portable nuclear generator? Bloody Hell Rodney!" 

"The defense is going to be a breeze," Rodney grinned, reaching for another crisp. "It's absolutely harmless, but it shows that my theory is *more* than sound." 

"Everyone is going to be clamoring for you Rodney," Carson said with genuine admiration. "You'll be head-hunted from all over on the strength of that alone." 

He meant every word, even as he sipped the frothy sweet coffee. 

"Yeah, well, I -- I don't really know. I've sent out some applications, but it never feels like it's soon enough. And like I said yesterday, Acastus thinks I should stick around for a while, get some time as a full time researcher under my belt." But he sounded dubious when he said, and that made Carson perk up. 

""If you can make a fully working portable nuclear generator, I think you might be beyond research," Carson said. "Where've you applied?" 

"Uhm, the government. No private company is just going to *give* me what I need to keep working on things like that. Anywhere that I've seen open, I've applied to." He seemed a little reserved, though, even as he reached for the crisps again. "These are really good." 

"Very more-ish aren't they?" Carson said. He'd have to get someone at the SGC to track that application down. "Acastus... that's your Patron isn't it? Is that Professor Kolya?" 

Rodney gave a vague nod, drinking another sip of his sweet coffee. Carson would have to get him another of those some time. The sandwich was gone, and Rodney was peering at the donuts on the desk thoughtfully. "The university's cold war specialist." 

"Ah yes, don't think I've ever seen him come down to the clinic." That hadn't stopped him from looking through the databases he could access to get the name. "I would've thought you would've had a Patron from one of your own discipline... Dr Reicher or Professor Sanderson. " 

"None of them were interested when I came here, and uh... I was sixteen at the time. No patron, trying to pay my own way for the first semester. It was rough, but I didn't need mentorship in my field, so..." Rodney shrugged slightly. No, he had someone who beat him out of the boundary lines. 

There was a case for patronage abuse there, he was sure of it. Especially if he could find out about any of Kolya's previous proteges and get them to sign statements to that effect. But even so, he was starting to get an idea of why Rodney's interactions were a little strained. When he wasn't talking about something he was sure of. 

"Aye, it's a risk trying to do that alone. I saw a few try it when I was doing pre-med." If it were just about money then he was sure that some might've made it. But there was that suspicion they were over-stepping themselves. Not knowing their place and they were often ostracized. Happened in the forces, happened all over society. 

Someone stepped up due to the sweat of their own brows, and they were very lucky indeed if they weren't quickly shoved back down. "Yeah. It was rough. I was living in this pay by the week rat motel, and halfway through the semester, someone broke in and stole my books. Between that, and trying to work in a restaurant... Acastus was a godsend." 

Carson nodded. "I felt a little like that about Evan and his father. There is no way I would've coped with it myself. And I wasn't 16 when I tried. Your parents couldn't give you any support?" 

"My father wanted me to be an engineer for the mine." Rodney shook his head as he said it. "Apprentice under him for a few years, and then he'd have been willing to help. I... was impatient." 

Carson chuckled. "I can imagine patience not being one of your strongest points," he replied. "You were lucky to find a...good Patron otherwise you might've been back there pretty quickly." 

"Probably. Or dead. The hotel, uhm. There was a meth lab. It was sort of stunning to read that it burned down about six months after I left because of said meth lab. Actually, I could have paid my tuition with *that*, and apparently the hotel management wouldn't've cared." 

"Aye, but the authorities might've done," Carson pointed out. "And they do explode with alarming regularity." He finished his coffee and found himself studying the cup mournfully looking for more. He took a donut and nudged the last one over towards Rodney. "Saved just for you." 

"Thanks." Rodney clutched it, eyeing it thoughtfully. "Yeah, that would be the downside. I'm sure it'd start out fine, but the contact high makes it a little dangerous to make drugs in a safe manner." 

"Rodney, trust me on this: don't speculate on that sort of thing too much when you have your interviews," Carson said, getting sticky chocolate icing all over his fingers. "Oh, I sent an email to Evan. He's going to ask around about military projects. See if he can get one of these cushy deals where you get a fully furnished apartment or house, car and unlimited lab time." 

"Oh, that would be..." Rodney trailed off, and took a bite of the donut. "I really appreciate it. I mean, you don't know me from a hole in the wall, really, but you're -- and I appreciate that. If I had that opportunity, I'd... be there in a heartbeat." 

"Really? I got the impression you were reluctant to leave your Patron?" Carson said and looked at him. Rodney should have the best of offers. He couldn't understand why he hadn't been headhunted. Unless someone had been intentionally quashing his profile in the academic world. 

"I..." Rodney shifted, set his cup down. "I don't know. I am reluctant to leave. I've spent most of my life here, and he's..." 

Abusive? Manipulative? Carson looked at him knowing he couldn't be so blunt right now. "Familiar?" he suggested. "It can be a wee bit scary setting off alone. I know that." 

Not as scary as trying to save lives in the middle of a bloody field somewhere with shells exploding nearby. He wanted a nice secure lab. No matter what Evan said he never wanted to be able to seek out being a man of action. Sometimes it had happened that way but given a choice he wanted to be in a nice safe lab. 

"We're, we're not quite patron and patroned anymore. It's..." He finished off the donut, eyes wandering the lab. "It's gotten complicated." 

"Complicated?" Unexpectedly Carson felt a surge of disappointment. "You mean things have progressed to a relationship?" 

Always bloody too late with the charm. 

Rodney cleared his throat. "Yeah. A while ago. It's uh, things just went that way. I'd, if I got one of these things I applied to, I don't know how he'd take it." 

"If it were me," and he wished it was, rather wistfully to himself, "I would be pleased for you. I would want you to succeed." He smiled a little more. "Of course then I'd have to find a job near where you were but... that's what being in a relationship is like if you are in love. Perhaps he will be happy for you?" 

"I..." Rodney shook his head slightly. "I don't think he knows I even have been applying. Actually, I know he doesn't know, or shouldn't know." 

"Is everything okay with him Rodney?" Carson asked looking to meet his eyes. "Something seems a wee bit wrong?" 

His eyes drifted over towards the door, and then back to Carson. "It's complicated. I, and by complicated, I mean it's apparently beyond me to really understand and I just finished a portable nuclear generator. And the more I hear other people talk about their patrons, the more I start to wonder, which creates sort of a mental feedback and it's. Astrophysics is easier." 

"I could be wrong..." Carson said carefully, "But I am pretty sure the sort of thing I have treated you for is not within the bounds of what is regarded as a normal Patronage relationship. I'll be frank, I worry about you. In a less than professional way. I can't stop myself thinking that you deserve better than this Rodney. That might be me leaping to conclusions but... I want to help you." 

And Rodney just stared at him while he talked. Like he was some bizarre foreign creature talking in bloody tongues, or maybe even *with* bloody tongues. "Why?" 

Carson flushed a little. "I like you," he admitted. It wasn't a lie, because he found himself constantly worrying about Rodney one way or another. He shrugged a little helplessly. "I like you." 

"You like me," Rodney repeated, and there was that stare again before he said, "I, uh. Oh. I, I like you, too. You're very..." 

"'Scottish' is usually the word that leaps to people's mind for some reason," Carson said with a faint smile. "I did not realize I was, well, that there was a relationship complication." 

He deliberately didn't say he was going to back off though. There might be a chance for him if he was lucky. 

Rodney looked conflicted, and that told Carson that he was onto something there. Yes he was in a relationship, but maybe he didn't want to be in it. Probably didn't want to be in it. "There is, but it's -- if I could get out of here as soon as I finish my defense, I'd, and I wouldn't be in that relationship anymore." 

Carson nodded. "Rodney... I'm not the type to force someone's hand. In some way I wish I was, but I prefer people who have chosen to be where they are. But that doesn't mean I'm going to walk away. I'm here today because I like you, and I won't push, but on the other hand I can at least be a friend and help you while you work out where you want to go with things. That is okay isn't it? To be friends?" 

"Yes." he said it quickly, and he was smiling when he said it, shifting in his chair, leaning forwards a little. "I'd like that. Uh, when do you have to go back to the clinic?" 

"Not right now," Carson replied. "Which is just as well because I don't eat that much usually in the middle of the day. I ought to walk it off or something." God, Rodney's smile was something startling. It made his face boyish and bright with enthusiasm. 

"I was just going to suggest that. Like I said, no-one comes down to the office, so... We could go for a walk, and no-one would notice." Rodney shifted a little, like he was ready, eager, even. He looked bright, not just intelligent but *warm*, in a way he hadn't seemed when he'd been freshly hurting from his wounds. By all rights, if Carson had had his way, Rodney still would've been in the infirmary being supervised. 

"If you know any good walks, I like to learn new ones," Carson said brushing himself off and putting their empties in the bag as rubbish. 

"I know most of the interesting paths around campus. I do a lot of it -- it helps me think." Quiet -- or not quiet, dependent on how close to the Boulevard side of the campus one was -- probably was good for pondering physics on the level Rodney did. 

"Aye, well I hope you don't mind me tagging along," Carson said, throwing the rubbish in the bin and standing. "Would you like to go now?"

* * *

He was going to die. He was going to die of a sudden heart attack from his own nerves, but before he died he was going to throw up, because he'd eaten too much and his stomach was twisted up in nerves, happy and freaked out, both. But it had been good, and Carson was handsome and soft faced and smiling easily, and... 

And he was so scared that he was going to get caught, which meant that he *was* doing something wrong, but he wanted to keep doing it. Even if it was just walking with someone who *liked* him in a non-professional way. 

That was rare enough that... he couldn't actually remember the last time that had happened. Ever. Not that people were particularly fond of him in a professional way either. 

And he really wasn't sure if Acastus could be described as fond. 

Beside him, Carson was walking with slow easy steps, comfortable and close, talking randomly about walks he had been on around the Loch of Kenmore when he visited his parents relations in Scotland and paid his respects to the elder Lornes who had managed to get themselves a nice little castle or manor somewhere in the highlands. 

It sounded amazing. Not that Rodney was usually interested in landscape and things, but the way Carson painted the pictures of them, it made Rodney want to *see* them. It made him want to see more of the world, because he... He just didn't. He knew the university and he knew the inside of the house, and he remembered the town that had been his home. But that was the limits of his world, and he wanted more, even the un-fantastic and mundane. 

But talking to Carson, he felt like, like Carson could *sense* that he was being a bad puppy, that he was breaking rules, and maybe he could, because he felt like he was missing something in the whole interaction. 

Carson would look at him, falling silent for a long few moments and then talk again. As they disappeared around towards the trees, he walked closer and then at one point seeming to pick up on that nervousness, just randomly patted him reassuringly on the arm. 

"...I think you would like Scotland. Of course I'm biased because I think everyone would. And up at the bothy, when it wasn't misty or raining - which wasn't that often, I can tell you - I used to sit outside at night and the stars... Rodney, you'd never seen anything like it around here because of light pollution. You could see why constellations were more than abstract pinpoints of light. They were shaded with color and things in the night sky. Shapes and shadows in space and glittering diamond dust. For a wee brief moment I regretted being a doctor." 

"Being a scientist doesn't bring you any closer," Rodney murmured. "It's frustrating. We could -- if humanity as a whole really put an effort into it, we could be out there exploring. But we're all chained down here, obsessed with petty things." 

Sometimes he wondered if that was the why his life had shaped up. 

"Imagine if you could, though," Carson said. "If someone said, oh let's see, that stable wormhole of yours exists, and you can go to other planets, other places instantaneously, would you want to go? I think I'd be a wee bit scared myself. Probably worried about alien bugs all the time." 

"I'd want to go. If I could go *through* a stable wormhole, I think that would be the most amazing thing in my life. And maybe one day, it'll happen. Or -- imagine if we could put a spaceship through a wormhole and cross to another solar system to map *their* planets, instead of orbiting the earth." It was a fantasy, sure, but they were talking in impossible, beautiful hypotheticals, and Rodney wasn't going to hold back. 

"It would have to be a big wormhole -- or a small spaceship," Carson said wryly. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn the colors of fall drifting down one by one at slow irregular intervals. "Otherwise would it be worth going?" 

"I can't see any situation where it *wouldn't* be worth going through." He watched Carson's face, and then let his eyes drift to the trees. His heart was still hammering in his chest a little but the chances that Acastus would see them out there was slim to nothing. 

But Acastus always seemed to *know*. Or the stress of waiting to be found out made him give himself away. "Rodney, you keep looking behind us. Are you worried we are being followed?" Carson murmured. "We are not doing anything wrong." 

"I know. I know, we're just talking, throwing around hypotheticals, but I get nervous." He preferred Kolya calm and pleased, but Carson was discussing, maybe, ways that he would never have to walk that tightrope again, as good or as bad as it could be. 

"Nervous? I don't want to make you nervous..." Carson said with a hint of dismay. "What am I saying that is making you nervous?" 

"Not you. It's, it's being out with you, but you're not the source of my nervousness. You'll probably think I'm crazy, but I almost feel like I'm cheating on him." And it was just *talk*, but Acastus had his lines of interaction for Rodney, and just how did he start explaining that to Carson? 

"By walking and talking?" Carson asked in a soft voice. "Rodney, why don't you tell me about him a little? No reports, not nothing, just a friend to a friend." 

"He's..." He was something else. "He's controlling. He, it's very strict in house, and it's... I've lived like this for so long, and I want to stay, but I'm not sure if that's what I want or if it's what he says I want." 

"That is the problem," Carson said. "For all the restrictions imposed, there is a security to being a protÈgÈ or surrogate. It is what the Patronage system was based on. The security of someone else there, in control and service in return. But like anything, when it is extreme it becomes abuse, Rodney." 

The other man hesitated a moment before saying. "Rodney? Sometimes you just need to hear someone else say it aloud. He shouldn't be doing this to you. You don't deserve to live for his pleasure, because if you feel anxiety about something as simple as a walk, then how you live now is hurtful to you and wrong." 

Rodney managed to dredge up a shaky smile. Hearing it from someone else *did* make him feel less like he was crazy, but it didn't change much. "I still don't know what to do. Or how to... I just don't know." 

Carson was silent a moment and that hand patted him gently, carefully. "Do nothing for now except what you are best at. Think Rodney. Think about possibilities and dreams. Think about what moves *you* personally. Separate your needs from his. Think what gives you pleasure that is yours alone. That is where things start. You know I will help you don't you? Any way I can, but the first step is working out in which direction the second step will be heading." 

He considered it, turned it over in his head for a long moment and then he suggested, lightening the mood, "I like donuts and coffee?" 

"There you go." Carson smiled. "Donuts and coffee. Not so hard is it? Something you like that you know is not his." His eyes were very blue looking at him like that. 

Beautiful blue. Soft, like they hazed into the whites of his eyes. "I'm not allowed to have them." He said it before he realized that he'd said it. 

Carson stopped, looking as if he had heard something very tragic. "Forbidden fruit is the sweetest temptation," he murmured. "Oh Rodney, If I could just... just take you out of here now, I would. I really would." 

"You're a student, too, in a way. Here for research. He could make your life hell, if he put his mind to it. You'd... Hey, the semester is almost over, right?" It wasn't tragic, it was just life. Acastus wanted him thin, and he tended towards not-thin, so... 

"Well yes, which is a good thing as it feels that it had been twice as long as normal. Busy," Carson replied. "And he could try, but my special research is not in his province." 

"He was soviet black-ops." It wasn't a secret -- Acastus wore it as a discreet badge of courage, pride, proof of the veracity of his defection, because even at that level, he saw something wrong in them. 

It was somehow easier to see that in the company of Carson. As if he was shedding light on things merely by his presence. "Well, I have a military Patron of distinguished lineage," Carson replied calmly. "I won't be scared off." 

"There's not being scared off, and then there's, there's... I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders tightly. "I'm sorry. Can we just not talk about it? It, talking about it won't solve it, and I can't do anything until my defense." 

"Of course," Carson said immediately. "Of course it means you get to hear me blather on about random subjects until you feel like interrupting." He smiled again. "What subject would you like me to talk about?" 

"Anything. How about your research?" It was science, even if it was a biological science, and Rodney would at least find himself a little interested. He didn't doubt that Carson would explain it as lovingly as he'd described the scenery of his home.

* * *

His meeting with Evan had not gone too well and he felt a little weary, even now sitting in the autumn sunlight under the trees, overlooking the glorified pond that proclaimed to be The Lake. Rodney was talking and eating at the same time, which was something that just made him smile as he listened. 

Evan had been all for pulling Carson out of the place the moment that he heard that Kolya was apparently Black Ops. He was also not impressed when Carson had given him the names of four previous proteges that Kolya had acted as Patron to and he had got as far as getting into records and discovering that each of them had been logged as having received offers elsewhere. 

But when he had phoned those institutions he had been informed that they had not been recorded as ever having enrolled. Or in the cases of jobs, as having been on the payroll. The moment he saw that, Evan was not the only one who started to think he had bitten off more than he could chew. 

Bright young men did not just disappear. Bright young men like that did not just fall off the radar and disappear from the world between Kolya's doorstep, and the doorstep of the place they had taken an opportunity at. Most of them had been in Kolya's patronage for little more than a year or so, a quick succession of four boys before Kolya had taken Rodney in. 

Rodney's life had no doubt been saved by his quiet obedience to Acastus Kolya. Whatever was going on in the house, Rodney had withstood nearly a decade of it. And it seemed like he was going to face more of it before they could get him into a position that was safe. 

"So, then Hendrickson choked on his coffee, because I don't think anyone had ever told him where he should shove it before then, but dammit, he needed to hear it because honestly, arguing that a wormhole couldn't withstand the *vacuum* of space is like arguing that a planet can't withstand it, either." 

He just had to be a little cautious, get to a point where they could prise Rodney away from Kolya - legally would be great, but if he thought Rodney's life was in danger he had told Evan that he would risk breaking contract for that at least. Evan had told him darkly that if Kolya had been Black Ops, then he ought to think of himself first. 

"That does seem a little bit ridiculous. Didn't you tell me that a wormhole is made of space?" Carson said as he reached across Rodney for the packet of crisps. They had branched out with flavors, moving on to sea salt and balsamic vinegar. 

"It is. And when I told him that, he just started to splutter. You could tell from his face that he'd think of a decent comeback hours later. He's probably still imagining how it should have gone. As it is, the dean thinks he's a moron." 

"Not that I am one to pass judgment on something I know little about, but I rather believe that he is a moron otherwise he wouldn't have gotten into an argument with *you* in front of the dean," Carson said and smiled as he settled back eating a crisp. 

He loved how much Rodney had... bloomed. Bloomed was a good word because it was a beautiful, slow process. 

It was watching someone who was unsure of themselves and closed off learn to open up and interact, visibly doling out large parcels of trust to Carson day by day by day. He'd said that he looked forwards to Carson's visits at lunch, for the food *and* the company. Rodney didn't usually *have* a lunch to eat, which bothered Carson both as a doctor on nutritional value, and the deep levels of abuse and control that it spoke of. 

But during their lunches, he was mellow and happy. 

"You'd think they've learned. Anyway, the dean threatened to take his funding and give it to me, which while I doubt it'll happen, it was nice to hear." 

"Aye, I wish someone would think highly enough of my research to do that to me," Carson admitted and offered Rodney a crisp almost absently. "Still, does this mean you've got the problem of running simulations under control?" 

"I do. Everyone's stopped... stopped screwing around with my allocations, and I'm finally starting to get somewhere with it. And in three weeks, I make my defense." 

Carson knew that which was one of the reasons that he felt himself up against a deadline. Rodney would get it -- he'd probably have to make some changes because everyone had to, but essentially, after that he would be open season then for anyone who wanted a piece of him. And if he accepted an offer... 

Well, Carson wasn't sure, because if he was, things might be different. "You're ready for it?" 

"I'm ready for it," Rodney murmured, taking a lazy sip of his coffee. He still did it furtively, like he knew he was breaking rules. "I'm completely ready for it. My whole life has been leading up to this." 

"Kolya has to know that you will get offers," Carson half asked. This was the dangerous time as far as he could see. He didn't know for sure but four bright young men vanishing just as they were leaving couldn't be coincidence. 

"He knows. He doesn't... I've told you what he thinks I should do. And if anyone *has* given me an offer, I haven't seen it." There was a quiet, bitter edge to Rodney's voice, as if he was becoming aware of things that Carson had already thought of. Kolya was intercepting them. He had to be. 

"Perhaps..." Carson glanced at him. "You could put a box address on them. Outside of campus. I would check it for you if you like." It was a daring step, but Carson was 99% sure Kolya was intercepting Rodney's mail somehow. 

"I don't think he'd... I don't know what he'd do if I left." And it came back to that, that Rodney was worried or afraid of what could happen. 

"The option is to stay with him forever," Carson replied blandly. He wondered when Kolya would naturally lose interest. He obviously had an eye for intelligent, beautiful young men and he could just about visualize what Rodney had been like at 16. 

He was still handsome, very much so, and intelligent, but Kolya had had him for a long time, compared to the other four. He had to tire of him sometime. 

"I don't... think I want that." 

Carson looked over at Rodney's expression and his hand, that generally went no further than a companionable pat on the arm, moved to stroke Rodney's hair and the back of his neck instinctively. "Aye, I can understand that. I want you to be very careful Rodney... very careful." 

"I'm being careful. But if I stay, I'm, it's not an option, and if I go, I think he'd... It's not a choice, either way." 

And he didn't pull back from Carson's touch, almost seemed to lean into it. 

"What do you think he would do?" he asked softly. He hated pushing like this every time, but even if he didn't get an answer, asking the question made Rodney think. It was like chipping away at ice, little by little. 

"I think..." Rodney chewed slowly on a crisp, fingers clutching tight around his half empty mug. "I think he'd make me regret it." 

Carson just stroked the back of his neck a little more. "He doesn't seem like the kind of man who likes to hear the word no," he said finally. Unless it was someone screaming ëno' helplessly. He was pretty sure Acastus Kolya had a taste for that. 

"He doesn't. I don't... I never have reason to say it, so..." Never had reason, or the nerve to say it which was much more likely. He'd seen the reasons on Rodney's back. "But he likes things to be very... just so. Me leaving wouldn't fit into his plans." 

"We could make a case for Patronage Abuse," Carson suggested. "I mean, we might not have to *use* it, just hold it in reserve if he becomes difficult." 

"How... would one build a case like that?" Rodney wasn't looking at him like he normally did when they talked, but his eyes were focused on some vague point in front of him while he finished eating. 

"Well, medical records make a substantial part of it. You were aware that any doctor has to document and report Patron inflicted injuries that transgress punishment criteria?" Carson said turning to focus on him. "Which, I can safely say I've submitted at least three of those reports about you and your file is full of others. And it would be easy to pull the University punishment log. You are entitled to that and I am pretty sure there would be little in there that Kolya could use as a justification. The only weak point... if you put down your version of things is him claiming it is consensual." 

Rodney ducked his head down. "It is and it isn't. There's no, it's something I've become used to, and I thought it was *normal* because of how he approached it, and I didn't want to lose the patronage." 

"Which any expert would call abuse," Carson said. "Especially if we can find anyone who will corroborate his behavior." He took a deep breath. "Like previous proteges. Has he ever mentioned any?" 

"No? But he had, uh..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders slightly. "After I signed the contract and came to live with him, he had... everything already. And it didn't look newly bought. The, the leash and the collar and the kennel, he already *had* everything, so..." 

Carson tried not to feel himself tightening up at the mention of Kolya's preferences. Rodney had mentioned it in bits and pieces before but... "Then perhaps we can see if there were any and track them down." Any who weren't gone and missing in the wind.

"Is there anything I can do to be helpful? You're doing all of this and I'm just going on like everything is normal, which it obviously isn't." Rodney twisted a little, finally looking at him. He could keep his head in the sand and let someone in a better position than he was intervene, that was what Rodney could do. 

"I think being normal is the most help of all," Carson replied looking at him directly and trying to resist the urge to lean closer. "Perhaps if he is intercepting your post then it is best he thinks that is the limit of it." 

"Okay." And he agreed, just like that, with no real reassurance that he wasn't jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. "Then I'll do that." 

He hated feeling this way. Unsure of what he was doing but knowing it had to be done and that there was a distinct possibility that Rodney might suffer for it if he screwed up. 

He hated to admit Evan was right, but he had been a doctor, not a soldier in his military experience even if he had seen some action and he could well be outclassed. But he had been careful. He bought everything, so no money trail to Rodney. They walked in isolated areas. If they sat, they were out of sight. His enquiries were all careful and legitimate information. What else could he do? 

"Just a little while longer love," he murmured and then blinked as 'love' escaped him for the first time. 

He wasn't supposed to fall for his missions, but he had and he was still falling. He'd work out what to do about that after, because Rodney looked at him with such surprise on his face, the same as he'd shown in his hole of an office when Carson had mentioned that he liked him and his company. "I've been here for so long that a little while longer isn't going to be hard." 

"I promise I will get you out of here Rodney," Carson replied meeting that gaze straight on and then allowed himself a small moment of indulgence. "And then maybe afterwards, we could... see." 

He didn't want to link one to the other, not with Rodney was already so wound up in his current situation, but it was worth the mention to see Rodney smile that way, wide and lopsided and crooked. He set the coffee down and Carson wasn't sure what he was doing next until he wrapped his arms tight around Carson. 

It nearly made him fall over, but he managed to balance himself and hug back, stroking down Rodney's back. "It'll be okay Rodney," he murmured not wanting to let go. 

"I want it to be. I want..." Want and need and liked, all words that Carson had started to work into Rodney's vocabulary to help separate himself from what Kolya preferred. "You." 

"Lord knows I want it to be you," Carson replied almost irresistibly drawn close enough to kiss him if he just moved that extra inch. 

Just an extra inch, but Rodney was a patient and a friend and then -- and then Rodney did it for him, turned his head just enough, pressed his mouth against Carson's. 

In that moment all sense and reason vanished. There was no law against getting involved with patients once they were not actually ill but... There was nothing but the kiss. Warm and wonderful, a lifetime of longing in the simple press of lip to lip. 

Rodney wasn't overpowering and he didn't push at Carson like some of the men he'd been with. He was tentative and he leaned into Carson slowly and seemed to be soaking in the feeling. 

There was just a feeling that this moment, right here and now was incredibly important. More than all the talks, the discussion and everything else. This moment of gentle tenderness that he realized that maybe Rodney had never experienced in his life. It made it important for this to be about what he felt rather than stirring arousal. He poured everything he could into the kiss, trying to show him the things they talked about were real. 

It didn't last long, but when Rodney broke the kiss, he sighed, and pressed his forehead against Carson's. "We should probably go back. But I don't want to." 

"Neither do I Rodney, but..." Carson stayed there for a moment, feeling his warmth as a gust of wind sent the leaves fluttering down around them. "But if we stay out here, we'll catch our death of cold," he said trying to regain his equilibrium. 

It seemed impossible, though. He'd done something, tipped himself sideways, and now he knew just enough to know he *had* to take action, no matter what Evan cautiously advised. 

Rodney pressed a little closer to Carson, and then pulled back with a murmured, "Yeah" that made Carson's heart twist in his chest. He was going to have to do something.

* * *

Evan was getting even less and less happy about the whole situation with Carson. Yes, technically Carson had to pay off the extra study and qualifications that he had acquired after he had stopped being his 'whipping boy' - a term less politically correct that the official patronage surrogate or protÈgÈ the contracts used, but the military had no right to send him into such a situation. 

Admittedly at the start, it had looked simple. Keep an eye out for talent because the SGC needed it desperately from any walk of life regardless of class restrictions. It was causing a bit of a social revolution but he wasn't that worried about that. What he was worried about was the initial information that had surfaced on Acastus Kolya. 

And now, it turned out there was someone under his nose who could fill in between the lines of the scant reports he had received. 

*That* was what made the SGC special. All countries, all statuses, all areas of expertise and knowledge. So it shouldn't have surprised him that Radek Zelenka had known the man back in the Soviet Union, when he'd worked his service to the military. Evan wanted to know everything that there was to know, to gauge just how shitty a situation Carson was in. 

So, ambushing the scientist in his own lab seemed perfectly moral and easy to do. He knocked, then leaned up against the doorjamb and waited for the man to stick his head out. 

"Yes, yes, come in. Try not to step on alien kitchen utensil or possibly weapons by the door," a voice called out sounding distracted. 

"Doctor Zelenka," Evan greeted the scientist, popping the door open as he leaned into the lab. He *did* watch his feet, because he knew how labs could get into disarray. "I need to talk to you." 

The scientist looked up, his hair in disarray and blinking a little. "Ah yes. Take a seat," he said gesturing to a chair with a box on it. "Ah, sorry, just put them on floor. I am thinking they are parts from a Jaffa staff weapon. But SG-1 tends to mangle things." 

"You could compare it to Teal'c's staff," Evan suggested. He was *careful* with the box, because he was sure the moment that he wasn't careful, he'd end up with his leg shot off. The SGC was like that, dangerous when you least expected it. "I want to talk to you about someone you knew back in the Soviet times." 

"Ah yes. Knew many people." Zelenka shrugged. "Some good, some bad. Some I wish forget yes? Who is it that you are wanting to know about?" 

"Acastus Kolya. He's patron to a brilliant young man we'd like to employ here, and I haven't heard anything good about him. Maybe you have something better to add?" He leaned his elbows on his knees. 

The way Zelenka actually physically flinched at the sound of the name did not bode well. "Ah. I much doubt that I do," he replied. "Kolya was... notorious. Very. Not my patron as he had specific tastes. Never been so glad to have bad acne in my life." 

"Really? Well, you grew out of it just fine." He threw Radek a smile, and then pressed on, "What's he do? What's he like? Carson's in there trying to get this astrophysicist out of there, and I think he's in over his head." 

The scientist sighed a little. "This may take a while. Here... things are different. Different expectations, hierarchies and many many laws. There, just one law. State owned all Patronage. It was meant to mean anyone with talent should be trained. Meant that those entitled to make selection had much power. Complete power and had for some time. Those of old aristocracy took proteges the old way. Complete control, complete education yes? " Zelenka cleared his throat. "All of us who were accepted, particularly by military knew we would be, ah... sex-toy yes?" 

"That translates real fine." Sex toy. That complicated it, because when they got the guy out of there he was going to need a lot of therapy. "Okay, that happens sometimes. It's not a good thing over here, but. Go on." 

"Yes, well. My own experiences, probably not legal here. But, you did not complain because you never got another chance." Zelenka cleared his throat and it was oddly disturbing to think of him in such a position. "But Kolya... we all said today has been bad, but could've been worse. Could have been Kolya's." 

"Any idea why he defected if he had it that good over there?" Could have been Kolya's. And he'd carried on, uncaught, right there in the states. "And I need to know what he does. Our guy's been with him for almost ten years." 

"Ten... Ten years?" Radek seemed shocked. "Must be strong. He left because even for corrupt state he was too much. Killed too many of his for it to be accidental." That was said brutally. "What does he do? Breaks people. Control them. Treats them as pet. The old Russian aristocracy would do this. Take as pets. Some say origin of Patronage. But... no clothes, no speech, no food, no drink without permission. Much punishment and... uh... sadism yes?" 

He had to be that strong, if he was treated like that and he was still a functional theorist. But he wasn't someone Evan wanted Carson within thirty feet of. "He kills. I need to be sure of this, Doctor Zelenka. Doctor Beckett is *in* there trying to get this guy to safety, and I don't want him hurt." 

"Then you must take them from there now," Zelenka said with great urgency. "You must go now, from here find plane and go get them both. Kolya will know. He will have known anything that Dr Beckett will have done. He was commander of the elite strike team. He had impeccable information. He will know every movement, every plan. Dr Beckett and this other man is in great danger." 

Son of a bitch. He *knew* there was something worse than what he'd been able to find, because there was black ops and then there was a *commander*. "Thanks. Thanks, I'll -- I might need to know more, later." He bolted to his feet, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. Plane, fuck. He needed to get one of their *own* special guys out there, someone with a little more training, but he was going to get Carson to withdraw, first. 

He started to dial even as he ran down the hallway to speak with the general. 

One ring, two rings, three... where the hell was... 

"Evan, you don't usually phone me at work," Carson greeted him as he answered. "Everything okay?" 

"Use my credit card. Buy a plane ticket *out* of there, I want you back here *now*, you cannot pursue this target. I'm having you reassigned, because you're in over your head. I'd be in over my head." 

"Bloody Hell Evan, what've you found out?" Carson sounded concerned. "I'm still at work, I can't leave mid-shift." 

"Yes, you *can*, and you will. Acastus Kolya was more than just black ops -- he was a black ops commander. Who was 'encouraged' to leave the soviet union because he was too much for them -- there was no heroic damn defection, they didn't want him there as a loose cannon. Doctor Zelenka's patron moved in the same circles as the guy, Carson, where he was known for dehumanization, and killing his proteges. Now given that you're tangled up with the only protÈgÈ who's lived the longest, the safest thing you can do for yourself and your target is for you to fly back here *now* so I can send someone a lot more qualified to take out a killer than you." 

He heard Carson inhale with shock, and he felt a little bad for so bluntly putting down Carson's abilities, but the truth was the truth. He was an excellent doctor but no match for Black Ops. "I'll have to get Rodney, I... I'll get my emergency kit, make sure it's all active," Carson replied sounding shaken. "Are you coming out? 

That was not what he wanted. He wanted Carson to leave, but Evan should have known that Carson wasn't going to abandon the guy after sounding so damn besotted, and fuck. Fuck. Evan sped up getting to O'Neill's office as he talked, and knocked hard on the general's door. "Yes, first flight I can get. Don't do anything rash, don't confront the guy -- you know what our black-ops commanders are like, so multiple the possibility for insanity by ten and you might be close to what this guy is capable of. I don't want you risking your life; do you understand me, Carson?" 

"I understand that Evan. I'm not in the business of taking risks." He always said that, and then he would find him doing something like running out into a firefight to get to him and pull him back for emergency treatment. "You have my pager, my mobile. Call. Rodney and I will be out of here, as soon as I can get a hold of him." 

"Good. No stupid secret plans, just get him *now*, pull him out of class, and go. This guy probably has everything bugged, and I'm just hoping he doesn't have time to review the tapes until you're long gone. Good luck." Carson was in too deep, hell, he never should have encouraged the mission that he'd *thought* would be safe. 

"Right, Right. I'll see you later Evan. Thank you," he said and hung up even as he knocked again. 

"Come in," came the command from the general. He wondered if he'd had to repeat himself. 

"Sir, I need to request leave." 

"I need to request less paperwork. Doesn't mean I'm going to get it," Jack O'Neill replied as he looked up. "Although a box of matches and a firelighter might just do the trick." 

Even with rank, O'Neill never lost his sense of humor. "It might, sir, but, uh..." Evan cleared his throat, stood up a little taller. "Sir, Doctor Carson Beckett is on assignment at NIT, looking for intelligent minds to recruit... He's come up against someone he wants to recruit, who has a Patron who was Soviet Black ops." 

That seemed to get the general's attention. "Black Ops. What the hell is a Doctor doing tangling with Black Ops? I have this rule about people getting killed. Only when they are bad guys. Beckett... isn't he the guy who kept trying to steal my blood?" 

"That's him. Geneticist. He's found this astrophysicist, with a specialty in wormhole theory, but his patron has a habit of having killed all of his other proteges. McKay is nearly done with his degrees -- he'll be done in about three weeks, and Carson's made contact with him." 

"Oh yeah Operation We Need More Geeks," Jack said and looked at him and gave a half shrug. "If I don't call it something I can remember, I don't remember it. So, he's bitten off more than he can chew?" 

"I have every reason to suspect that this particular man, who's serving at the university as a history teacher, will kill Doctor Beckett and his target in a matter of days." This meant he needed to get there himself or someone a hell of a lot better than him needed to get there. 

"Way more than he can chew," O'Neill said dryly. "You got the time. NIT huh?" He seemed to think. "You match Black Ops with Black Ops. We've got someone I know cooling his heels down that way at the moment. I can get him there pretty quickly. Beckett uses one of our emergency kits?" 

"Yeah, he does. I told him to get out of there, but he's going to try to take the guy with him. He's stubborn and I couldn't talk sense into him." 

"I'm going to send Sheppard as back-up. Give him a bit of a chance to redeem himself. I don't think his father would disagree, and god only knows I want him to shut up" Jack replied with that deceptive look that made it sound random. "Besides, if I were Black Ops, I would be moving now. Not waiting for the 20.30 flight to get in. Talk to the pilots. Tell them I've authorized a flight." He scribbled randomly on a piece of paper, something which Lorne managed to decipher as 'Give this guy a damn flight - Jack O'Neill'. 

Straight and to the point. Evan took it when Jack leaned up. "Thanks. Maybe we won't need the guy there, but any help..." He pocketed the paper, and waited for a dismissal 

"Oh yeah... dismissed soldier," Jack said and waved him out. "Try and bring 'em back alive huh?" 

"Yes'sir." It wasn't probably nearly as dire as half the shit he'd seen as SG-1 commander, but it got Evan wound up with worry. He turned and let himself out, and headed down to the flight deck to get a flight out of there.

* * *

Since Carson had entered his life, it had gotten a lot stranger. The good moments with Acastus were starting to feel fewer and farther between, and the good moments with Carson were every moment. Every quiet moment of muted enjoyment -- it wasn't much, it wasn't exciting, but it was amazing, and every moment of it made him warm inside. It was hard to sleep at the foot of the bed at night, because he wondered what life would be like if he, if he didn't have to. 

He looked at the meager meals he was permitted to eat and thought of turkey deli sandwiches and real coffee and chocolate donuts. He thought of the fries Carson had brought to him and remembering what they tasted like in all their saturated fat glory. 

When Acastus stirred arousal in him, he realized they were like sparks in somewhere hollow and dark, made bright by contrast. Whereas Carson's kisses filled him with warmth and a glow, and a yearning desire he couldn't put a name to. 

He wanted out. 

He wanted out. He yearned for a little more freedom, for pieces and parcels of what Carson had let him taste and gave to him *freely*. He wanted more than he had, and it had always been sufficient before. Little pieces of affection and pleasure and attention had always been *enough*, more than he'd ever had before, but Carson had stressed that his situation was wrong, that it wasn't supposed to be that way. 

There were times when he panicked and just wanted to hide away. Curl up with Waffle and not have to worry about anything. But... he was close to going and he was pretty sure that from the way Acastus had been behaving that he had been intercepting his mail. 

That had made him feel sick. But he couldn't be sure. 

Rodney could hear someone hurrying down the corridor towards his room. He saved his work quickly, and then strained to look busier than theory itself took of his attention. He preferred to look vaguely busy when he received a visitor, because there was a decent chance that it'd be a dean. 

He was mildly surprised when Carson practically barged in, looking wild eyed and ruffled. "Rodney...sorry to burst in, but we have to go. Leave now." 

"Now?" Now, now meant, now was too fast, now meant he had just his laptop and not Waffle, but... "Now?!" 

"Now. Evan contacted me. He says he has proof that our lives are in danger if we stay. Both of us," Carson said breathlessly. "He told me to just leave, but I couldn't leave without you." 

Oh god. He was going to have to leave Waffle. But it was leave Waffle, or, or stay with Acastus for the rest of his life. He wasn't going to get a second chance, he wasn't worth the kind of effort that Carson was putting into it and no-one else would do that for him. "Oh, god, now. Now, I'm -- get my notebook case, I'll, oh, god, I'm going to have to leave Waffle, quick, help me, help me pack." He had a wallet and ID and his laptop and he could work with that and some of his backup CDs. He could transfer his credits and get his degree finished elsewhere, hell, he could start over. 

"We'll get someone to come for Waffle," Carson said even as he half shoveled things into the laptop case. "If Evan is right then we can make that case and get him. I've told the clinic it's a medical emergency. Evan is very worried, and that's not like him. He's going to be on the first plane out here." 

"If he's coming here, what are we doing?" He shut his laptop down, trying to will it to go quicker. Shut down, shut down... 

"Not *here* but to the airport in case we get delayed." Carson replied. "He gave me a credit card in his name for emergencies. He told me to just drop everything. He thinks Kolya will have been watching us or... bugging us. We have to get out of here before he has chance to check whatever information is being collected now. Anything else you need?" 

Waffle. And Carson said they could get Waffle back, so... "No." Clothes were for work, he had nothing at the house, nothing that he couldn't replace, and his research was there. He slipped his laptop into its case, and strapped it in. "Let's go. This is my whole life in this bag." 

"Alright, let's get out of here," Carson said as he peered nervously out into the corridor. "My car is out back." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small capsule and twisted it and then grimaced as he swallowed it. "I hate those things." 

"What was that?" Rodney shifted, strapped the laptop bag over his shoulder and close to his back, like he was going to run home carrying it -- which he'd had to do that time the car had broken down. 

"Emergency tracker. Evan makes me carry a kit everywhere just in case. " Carson was striding quickly. "Sometimes I am grateful for the paranoia. Should something happen people will come after us." 

Or at least, they'd come after Carson, which was half as good. Because if anything happened to them, it would be Acastus. "Right, that'd, that'd be good. We should, let's try to not look suspicious? We usually leave for lunch, so, it's not that strange." 

"If we can get to the car then we should be okay," Carson replied. "I'm sorry to do this to you. I know you wanted to bring Waffle with you. If I thought we could get him I would. Where is Kolya now?" 

"He's at home. It's his long night, he has the evening lecture so he comes to campus in the next half hour or so and really, this is the best time to try to make a break for it because he's not on campus." Rodney kept his voice low, and stepped out into the hallway, let Carson step out before he locked the door. 

"Right. We'll just drive to the airport, get the next plane that will get us out of here," Carson said visibly trying to calm down. "C'mon love. Time to get the bloody hell out of here." 

Carson wasn't made for that kind of planning, plotting, and it had to be written all over their faces how nervous they were. He stayed close to Carson, trying to feign normalcy as they walked down the hallway, quickly, and started up the stairs. "Okay." 

It wasn't that far to the outside of the building and Carson seemed a lot happier when they actually made it to his car. He popped the locks and gestured for Rodney to get in. "Now we can get out of here." 

He hurried in, and swung his laptop the front, hugging it against his chest once he'd buckled his seatbelt. They were going to do it. They were really going to do it and he wouldn't have to serve Acastus any longer and he wouldn't have to sleep at the end of the bed or worry if he was being a good puppy or a bad puppy or how much trouble he was going to be in from eating things he shouldn't eat. "Drive, drive, please drive." 

And they were driving. And he was going to be safe, going to be *free* of everything and it was almost exhilarating as well as terrifying. 

He'd never seen Carson looked so determined. For a moment he could see the man who had been in wars plying his trade. He did keep checking his mirror nervously but they were out of the campus and heading further out of town towards the airport on the outskirts. 

Not being followed. They weren't being followed, and it made Rodney want to breathe a sigh of relief. "I can't believe we're doing this." 

"Aye, well I won't rest easy until we are safely away from here," Carson said as he pushed up to the speed limit. "We'll get him dealt with Rodney. I know Evan, he won't let it drop." 

"I'm glad. I don't need restitution or whatever it would be. I just want to be free." He didn't even care where they were ultimately going, because he had the intelligence to start over. He'd be all right; they would, as soon as they got away. 

There were heading along one of the more isolated roads, about five or ten minutes from the airport if Carson put his foot down. Up ahead of them he could just see a car pulled in next to the trees. Probably someone sneaking out for a make out session. 

There was a sudden thump underneath the car and Carson was suddenly fighting to control it as it slewed everywhere over the road. 

"Oh, crap!" 

"Straight, keep driving!" It wasn't happening, there was no way they could get a flat tire *there*, so close to where they needed to be to survive, to escape. He braced his feet against the floor, though. 

"I'm trying!" Carson said, frantically trying to steer, even as the car up ahead pulled out across the road. "Shit!" 

He had to pull to a halt. "Rodney, we're going to have to run for it. I think... I don't know if it is him, but it's someone. " 

"I can run." He fumbled his seatbelt open, and popped the door open to do just what Carson had instructed, before whoever it was could get out of the other car. 

They both leapt out, Carson rounding the car to get a hold on him, preparing to run down into the woods. Maybe if they got there they would stand a chance. They were just on the lip of the verge when Rodney noticed something on Carson's jacket. 

A tiny red dot of light. 

"Get down!" A sighting laser -- he'd been to firing ranges with Acastus, knew what a high powered weapon could do, and it was all that *he* could do to lunge at Carson, trying to get to him before the bullet did. 

It wasn't quick enough, though the shove unbalanced Carson, and then he saw him jerk with impact and go down without more than a choked gasp. 

"Do not move!" 

Oh god oh god, oh god. Rodney closed his eyes tight, and hugged onto his laptop case. Carson was dead and that little red dot had been *on* him, and he had no way to fight back and oh god, oh god, Acastus was going to kill him. 

Acastus was having him killed.

"Kneel. Now." 

He barely cracked open his eyes, just in time to see another two appear from the woods, proving that they really hadn't stood a chance. There had been no need to chase them when they could lie in wait and pick them off at a time of their choosing. "Take the body, put in car and push in lake. By time he is found, will not be obvious what killed him." One of the men ordered and as they picked up Carson he could see his jacket wet with blood, and the glimpse of his face white as death. 

Oh god oh fuck, oh god oh god, he was dead, Carson was dead and it was Rodney's fault, it was, oh god, he'd gotten Carson killed, and his body was going to be dumped in a lake and Carson deserved so much better than that, he deserved to live a long long time, and do a lot of research and oh god, oh, god. 

He fell to his knees, hugging his laptop closely still. 

The laptop was taken from him, and he half expected them to trash it, but curiously they did not. Instead they bound his hands, his ankles and lifted him as well to the other car. 

The one that they weren't going to roll into a lake and oh oh, god, he'd gotten Carson killed. He wasn't worth it, he'd *told* Carson he wasn't worth the risk, he'd said, he'd tried to get him to listen but he hadn't and oh, fuck, now he was dead and Rodney didn't know what was going to happen to himself. 

He was loaded in the car, in the back seat and he lay there in misery even as he could hear the men talking in Russian, almost amicably. He heard the name Kolya a few times. But all he could think of was that Carson was dead and Kolya was going to probably kill him. 

That was what he got for trying to leave. Rodney had gotten the nicest person he'd ever met killed, and if he survived, if he survived he wasn't going to do it again. He'd take his lot in life and not drag other people in with him, because oh, god, he'd gotten Carson killed, and it played over and over in his mind in a never-ending damning loop.

* * *

* * *

Rodney was still conscious when they carried him into the house. They took their payment, cash of course, and a little extra for a job *very* well done, and they left, as he wished for them to do.

Acastus was still not completely willing to admit that his favorite puppy had been willing to commit such an act. He was generally compliant, generally well behaved in the house, despite the occasional tendency to act out for attention. But when it had come to his attention that Rodney had been speaking with someone in a social context, and sneaking around to do it, his curiosity had been piqued.

Usually, they broke to that level far sooner, in the training stages. He'd never expected for Rodney to break so completely and *then* to reach out for help, corrupted by the now dead Doctor Beckett. 

It really was quite unusual, the way he had maintained his normal behavior at home and then apparently was actually not just plotting escape but a form of betrayal. But then he was his most unusual pet. Most of the time he could see the signs so clearly. Slight rebellion in the home, a resistance betrayed in tense muscles or the expression of his eyes. 

But somehow he had managed to be normal and plot to leave. Of course, he had been watching the situation for a while now. You just didn't lose the knack of surveillance technology and there were systems that would post alerts at certain words being used and when things had looked like they were escalating, he had invested in the services of some mutual friends to do the hard work for him. 

The question was, would he be able to salvage Rodney or have to have him...put down?

He looked at Rodney thoughtfully, trussed up and visibly shaking. He was getting older, had a good life and lots of attention. If his mental abilities were failing then... perhaps it would be kinder to just put him out of his misery. 

On the other hand, whereas Dr Beckett had been kind enough to provide an excuse for his disappearance with his fabricated story about a family emergency, Rodney would be missed from classes. But after his defense... That was always a good time. He could put out the offers he had intercepted and pretend perhaps he was wanting to punish him by sending him away, after more traditional punishments of course. 

And in the mean time he could be looking for his next pet. They were so appealing when young and innocent. It had been a long time. 

Rodney had kept that wide eyed, sweet look for a very long time, but there was nothing like it when they were young and not quite used to everything yet. And Waffle would enjoy the company of a younger playmate, someone who wasn't caught up in the verge of a career. 

Yes, it seemed like a very satisfying plan. Keep him until he found and started to work on a replacement, *then* 'allow' Rodney to make his great escape into oblivion. And until then, he could only afford Rodney so much trust, because his puppy had been *so* good at concealing what he'd done. 

That was the first thing he needed to take care of in the interim period. 

"I am very disappointed in you Rodney," he said in a low voice. "Most disappointed. Did I not tell you exactly what I would do if you were bad? Hmm?" 

He used his foot to roll him over, pleased to see the pale terror on his face, in stark contrast to the black cloth blindfold. 

"And you have been very bad. Haven't you?" 

He whined, and gave a jerky nod. It would be such a shame when he had to put Rodney down. He never fell for that, never spoke without prompting. He'd learned his lessons well. 

It made Acastus smile despite himself. "After you have been so good for so long. What you did was a betrayal, Rodney. A betrayal of our agreement and I told you that I would kill you if you ever betrayed me didn't I?" He put his hand around Rodney's throat and tightened his grip. 

He whined again, and still tried to nod, even as he tightened his fingers around Rodney's neck, flexing them. He pulled at the ropes around his wrists, too, and it reminded Kolya that perhaps it would be best if he undressed him first. After all, Rodney was never supposed to be dressed for long in the house. 

He took out his knife. It was a rare pleasure to cut off Rodney's clothes, but he would have to bleach and burn everything he was wearing anyway in case he had been close enough for blood spatter. "Well now... a life has been taken tonight. Perhaps one is enough. I understand Dr Carson Beckett was once a whipping boy. I thought he would not object to taking your death for you. At least that way he would be worth something." He cut at the cloth carefully and methodically. 

There would be no stray nicks that he did not purposely lay out on Rodney's pale skin. But Rodney was shaking, and it made it harder for him to not nick him. The blade bit, tugged, at his hip and lightly across his rib cage. 

"So now we are at a point where things could go back the way they were." Or appear to. "Or we could just say that once a *trust* is broken, it stays that way forever." 

Acastus pulled away the pieces of cloth, sliding them over skin. He could imagine that Rodney would be pudgy, whiny and arrogant if he had not trained him. Acastus was proud of the smooth skin, the way he could feel ribs with his fingers as he glided over them. 

He was sleek and bright, and egotistical in the way of a creature that deserved to hold their head high. Rodney's muscles shivered and he whimpered, twitching a little but not striving to be free. 

"Wruff?" There was a click click click of paws on wood floor to warn him that Waffle was there to investigate. 

"Good Waffle..." Acastus took a moment to pet the young dog. Really the name was somewhat ridiculous but his pedigree name was more suitable for shows if he trained that well. He was relatively obedient, but he needed to come into his full growth. 

Waffle sniffed hopefully at Rodney and looked back at him. "Rodney won't be playing with you right now Waffle..." he murmured. "He and I are busy." 

Busy was a word Waffle responded to, but he still gave Rodney a longing sniff from the side of his head, before trotting off to no doubt lay on his bedding in the living room. 

Rodney's face crunched up beneath the blindfold, and the shaking didn't stop, even now that he was undressed. 

"Better," Kolya approved. "I do not believe in clothes on pets. It is... ridiculous." Distasteful. His father had never permitted the household pets to wear clothes. It was a sign of his control and his status that he could afford to have a house that luxurious that clothes were not necessary even in the depths of winter. 

His hand stroked over his skin again. "You must be punished Rodney," he said. "Even if your life has been purchased with blood." 

The blood of someone Rodney had seemed very fond of. Someone he had tried to run away with, as if a pet deserved such a choice, or had the right to make that kind of decision. 

At least Rodney had the good sense to nod. He knew the proper responses and that in itself was satisfying. There was pride in that. 

Punishment. The difficulty was in thinking of something suitable that would not incapacitate him for days. He needed him to be finishing and making his defense and making plans to go. Then at the last he need not be restrained. 

"What shall I do with you, hmm? What punishment does this warrant?" 

Rodney couldn't answer, of course. He couldn't and he wouldn't, because he was *so* well trained. He lay there, as best he could when he was trussed like that, and simply waited for Acastus to make his decision. 

First of all, he'd have Rodney call in sick the next morning. It would give him a little leeway, and Rodney could work from home for a day, get a little further and allow Acastus a little longer to reinforce who and what Rodney McKay was. He was not a young man to be rescued, and he was not deserving of some great love, or whatever he'd been deluded to think Doctor Beckett had been to him. 

There would be whipping of course. That was expected, but electricity would serve him well, delivering a punishment and leaving comparatively few physical marks. Yes, there was plenty he could do with a little imagination. 

He paused a moment, and then lifted Rodney up, making his way into what acted as their bedroom. He wasn't even going to allow him to stand for the whipping. He wanted Rodney totally helpless. 

Acastus wanted to re-break him, except breaking Rodney the first time had taken a summer break to accomplish, careful steps of making him helpless, and he did not have three months to play with. Just a night, and he was going to *savor* it, savor thwarting Rodney's hopes and dreams, because he had no right to have them in the first place. 

There was just the question of where to start with the beating, which whip to use to fray at Rodney's back, to warm his skin over. 

He settled for tying him face down on the bed. He considered briefly undoing the blindfold but decided that this would be more of a lesson in vulnerability if his pet was in the dark. 

He wandered to his store of equipment at the back of their walk-in cupboard and considered a moment. If he used the bullwhip it would kill him. Maybe that for a later date. He had a medium heavy one he usually used for punishment. Yes, that would do. 

Acastus also took out his box of electrical devices. He would think about those while performing the familiar. 

But for the moment, he carried the box and the medium heavy whip into the bedroom. Acastus was sure to make the box clink when he set it on the floor, telling Rodney without words the kind of punishment he was facing, or that his backside was going to be facing. 

An intelligent mind could torture itself far more effectively than any pain inflicted could ever accomplish. It was about anticipation, imagination. Perhaps it was that which made Rodney so special. He was the most intelligent pet Acastus had ever had. He trailed the whip over Rodney's back, buttock and legs. There had been times when they had done this in play and Rodney had writhed for a different reason. 

Rodney got off on it, rubbed his cock against the mattress, squirmed and whined for more, begged Kolya in noises to do it again. But this time, it was about punishment; about making Rodney understand the depth of crime he'd committed against himself, his agreement to Acastus, and to his intruding friend. Rodney would not reach out to someone else for comfort again. 

Acastus raised the whip, tested his angle, and then struck. 

It was a lash that meant business, the welts rising almost immediately as he flicked the leather away. "One for talking to strangers for more than business," he said and swung again, cracking against skin. "For drinking coffee." And again. "For taking food from another's hand." 

More than once. More than once, too many times. It was a wonder that he could still *see* Rodney's ribs, that his flanks hadn't filled out in a way that Acastus would rather not see. That man had indulged Rodney's gluttony, had allowed for him to let his training fall to the wayside. 

"For believing yourself to be more than my pet." Another strike. "For believing you could outsmart me." Yet another and blood this time. "For your arrogance..." He had to pull himself back or Rodney would die. 

But there were so many offenses that Rodney needed to suffer for. He could reinforce them with the bull whip at a later date, one last reinforcement for Rodney before he was put down. Rodney gave a choked noise against the mattress, and he was shaking. Sobbing, then, good. So quiet, too. 

He was beautiful like that, so vulnerable and broken. There was an attractive quality about things that were perfect and controlled falling to pieces, and Rodney would do more of that before he was through. He let him just *feel* for a while. Long enough to wonder what would be next even as Acastus opened the box and looked inside, contemplating. 

He has so many toys that intensified sensation, that made Rodney helpless with pain and pleasure together, that left him drained. There was an anal probe that fit well, spread him a little, that made his ass contract uncontrollably. There was the ball vice that made the nerves sing in tingling sensation, and there was the urethral probe that Rodney hated. Hated, made a face over when all else was control. 

Any one of them could make him scream if done in the right way. All three should be even more... effective. The anal probe first and then he could turn him over and deal with the rest of it at his leisure. He picked out the three, and attached the probe to the power source first. He tested it on his finger, nodding in satisfaction at the snap of sensation. 

"Did you want him to fuck you Rodney? Is that it? Were you secretly thinking how good that would be?" 

He wasn't going to worry about lube tonight even as he teased with the electrical probe. "Hmm?" 

Rodney whined, but he didn't shake his head. Yes, he'd thought that, he'd probably day dreamed what the man would be like. At least he wasn't going to lie to the last to Acastus. 

That was enough to make him smile a little. Would he ever find another pet like Rodney? Ten years was a long time. He knew exactly what Rodney would do when he pushed the probe in, where the upper limits of his tolerance were when he turned up the current. 

Would he miss that familiarity? 

Perhaps. He very much doubted that any pet would ever *replace* Rodney, or scrub out his memory. No-one else had ever had the strength of will, or lack of it, to survive for so long with him. Or the simple obedience to live so long without tempting his temper. 

Acastus should have expected that when Rodney finally disobeyed, he would disobey in a spectacular manner. He was always a little showy, in submission or defiance. Acastus pressed the probe against Rodney's asshole, and then decided that a little conductive gel might serve to draw it out. He fetched some from the box, smeared it on, rubbing over Rodney's asshole in a movement he knew Rodney liked, only to then follow it up with shocks of pain from the probe itself as he worked it in. 

Rodney was already convulsing around and against it, muscles straining. There was finally more than a whimper from his voice, a garbled noise that was muffled against the mattress. That was pain, his body fighting the intrusion before the flared head of the probe settled into Rodney, immovable unless Acastus pulled it out. 

"Not very pleasant is it?" Acastus said. "Imagine how unpleasant it was for me to discover how I had been betrayed? Do you think I wanted to have this happen? Do you really think I will enjoy this? I have had to take *risks* because of your behavior. Risks." 

He turned the intensity up a level. 

It was beautiful to see, to hear. Rodney's voice stretched to a shaking, screaming gasp. The welts on Rodney's back were bright red, angry, some of them open. There would be no soothing care from a handsome young doctor for those wounds. That pleased him in his own way, even as he ran an idle finger over the raised red flesh. "I do not like risks. I am not alive today because I like taking risks." Another jolt, same power. 

Rodney's voice, pitched in agony, made his dick ache. When he was done, he'd take Rodney, hard and for as long as he could, grind it into him that he was just a pet, just there to serve, and without service to Acastus, nothing at all. 

It was the right way. They were too soft here. What was the point of having power if it was not exercised? That was something the old country knew better. He should've gone to the Far East with their enlightened views on service, but there the death of a protÈgÈ was something that resulted in personal blood feuds and death sanctioned by the state. Here, well here, people disappeared and no one cared. 

Not unless they were nosey Scottish doctors who were now very dead. 

"I am alive because I have control. That is what you do not have. That is why you always fail Rodney... why you always will fail." Another shock. 

"Why you always will. But that is why you wanted me. You wanted the discipline remember? The food, the shelter... all of that." 

And another. He was remorseless. He had given Rodney everything, he had taken him out of a slum, fed him, clothed him, given him a home, schooling of the best type, and *that* was the payment he received. Escape, attempts at it, rule breaking, sneaking behind his back, taking food from another's hand. The more he thought about it, the angrier Acastus felt, and it was hard to not just keep giving Rodney charge after charge. 

He eventually stopped when he could see Rodney still shaking convulsively even after he stopped the charges. Good. Acastus gave him respite as he fetched the other two items and began fiddling with them. He had underestimated how much this would arouse him. He wanted to do it now, but he was determined for Rodney to *want* to die. 

And he would not give Rodney the pleasure of it. He was going to have the guilt and the knowledge of what he had done, and just whose death it had caused, in his mind for the rest of his short life. 

Rodney pulled weakly at his cuffed legs and wrists, not even a real struggle, still shaking. He'd have to uncuff him, but the blindfold would keep him from seeing what was happening until he slid the probe in. 

It was easy to flip him around, and re-secure him. He thought about how the material would be sore against Rodney's whipped back and smiled. When it came time, he would use a knife. He would do all the things he had to avoid for fear of attracting attention. He would not stop short as he was doing tonight, but would experience the delight of owning a life so completely it was his to end. 

"I know you don't like this, but it would be a very ineffective punishment if you did wouldn't it?" 

Rodney even *nodded*. He'd nod, too, when Acastus was talking him through his death. He'd cut and feel everything he'd ever wanted to, stretch Rodney out so wide that he'd rip, cut his beautiful skin off of him in pieces, and Rodney, obedient Rodney, would nod. 

"Hnn." 

"Yes. I'm glad you agree," he said taking Rodney's cock in his hand. To think of the times he had done that and given him pleasure. He had been too indulgent. Too lax with him. He was not particularly gently as he threaded the urethral probe up into Rodney's cock. "Believe me Rodney; I am restraining myself, being responsible. This is just the merest hint of how angry I really am." 

Rodney whined, voice past breaking, cracking, straining in gasps and then sobs, because it wasn't something they did often. A handful of times in Rodney's life, so that each time the thick probe opened his dick from the inside all over again. Lube only served to make the conductivity even better when he turned it on. 

It would be excruciating, he knew that. In low currents it could be stimulating; at high... well. He turned it on to see the reaction. 

Rodney's back bowed up, arching up into it, slamming against Acastus's hand to try to get away, when it was only achieving the opposite. but there was no-where for him to go, nothing for Rodney to do but feel it, and make beautiful noise, sounds of agony. 

He relished it, drank in the sight and sounds of it before turning it off. "It hurts doesn't it? You wanted his hands on you, his mouth on you..." 

He could see the truth of that in Rodney's contorted face and the anger came back. 

"He. Had. No. Right!" 

He was shouting as he turned the current on again, vicious in his rage and embracing it. 

Rodney had ruined a beautiful thing, their *lives* together, the ease of it all, and now there was so much work to be done, plans to be laid, made untraceable. He had every right to embrace it, and by the end of the night, Rodney would embrace it as well.

* * *

Fur was safe. 

He'd learned that quickly, that there was comfort in fur, that Willard and then Waffle loved him unconditionally, that teeth that could snap covered themselves with lip and lax muscle, that a tongue lolled out and licked at his face, and that even the most anxious Waffle or Willard had a sense of when it was play time and when it was sleep time. Sleep time was when Rodney crawled to bed, when Rodney put hands in front of his knees, dragging himself, body screaming at him to stop, stop stop. He wanted to, wondered if he could just. Just stop, just kill himself. Acastus' gun case still wasn't locked. It never was, never needed to be. He could do it. 

He deserved to do it, now that Carson was dead. Because of him, because he'd *known* what Acastus would do and he'd been too scared to say it because he didn't want to scare Carson off, and he *should* have scared him off. He shouldn't have ever tried to be friends with him, shouldn't have. Now he'd gotten Carson killed, and he wasn't worth it. He wasn't going to be worth it. He had a few stupid theories and a great grasp in function, but it was useless, it wasn't an applicable trade, and Acastus would never let him leave now. Unless he was dead, and Carson was already dead and that was his fault, his stupid stupid fault. 

But there was fur. There was fur against his fingers and fur against his face, and Rodney curled forwards against fur, trying to not choke anymore. 

Waffle always seemed to know what was best for him and he could feel his head turn a little, and the coldness of his wet nose, before Waffle licked at his cheeks where tears had left a salt trail.

The dog made a worried sounding noise, and edged in closer. 

He wrapped one arm around Waffle, just to get him closer. Waffle's feet were tucked up under his body, so there wouldn't be any nails poking him. He'd had enough... enough poking. Enough. Everything hurt, inside and out, still twitched and fluttered and god, it all hurt. It all hurt. Usually there was some comfort, but he didn't deserve it. After Acastus had chained Rodney, after he'd taken off the cuffs, he'd pushed Rodney out of the bedroom, and that was that. He was probably going to piss blood, and his back was going to be infected, but at least he was *alive*, even if he didn't want to be. 

Because he'd gotten Carson killed. 

That moment just kept replaying. The sound of Carson's voice and his determination to just get him away and then that red dot. He'd stared at it for...way too long before he said anything, did anything. 

And there it was, one bullet and if Carson hadn't been dead then he would've bled out, or...drowned because the person who might come for them was somewhere probably still on a plane and... maybe he'd find the body. He didn't like to think of Carson lost in the water. 

Carson at least deserved a burial, deserved to not be torn apart and eaten by... by whatever was out there. Rodney shouldn't have hesitated. 

He shouldn't have decided that he liked Doctor Beckett, shouldn't have started to just see him. But he had gentle hands, and he cleaned quietly, a lot less painfully than some doctors had. And then he'd, he'd started to feed Rodney, and Carson couldn't have known how hunger was a half a thought in the back of his mind all the time, the fact that he *was* hungry, that he felt woozy or sick or agitated and could only think of food, and that was usually a long way away, and god, he'd had a beautiful voice, really beautiful, with all sorts of pitches and ups and downs, but soft, soft. Not a whisper, but not abrasive, soothing, and he could still almost hear him, hear him ordering Rodney to *go* and he hadn't and now they were both dead. 

Waffle laid his head on Rodney for a moment, while Rodney wished that Carson had just left. Gone like Evan had told him too, but he'd come back for him. Why did he do that? Carson had risked his life for Rodney and he wanted to tell him no, no it hadn't been worth him dying. It would never have been worth that because even though he'd teased Carson, told him medicine was a voodoo science, he knew he was a genius in his own way. But he'd basked in the attention he'd given him, so pleased, so happy just being with him he felt able to talk and maybe he hadn't been as generous with listening as he had been with talking. What had he given Carson anyway, except a short cut to dying horribly? 

Nothing. Nothing but a horrible death, and that was why none of it made sense, why it didn't make sense that Carson had done it, come to get him. If he'd just *left*, he would have been all right. He'd be safe, with his patron, a patron who didn't hit him and didn't live with him and it sounded amazing that Carson had *had* such freedom, and it didn't make sense that he'd thrown it away for someone like Rodney. 

He should have just left. 

Waffle whined as if he was agreeing with the argument in his head, and decided he needed to be closer. Usually it was him comforting the pup, and now it was the other way around. 

He was going to die. He knew that. Acastus was going to kill him, but he couldn't run. How could he run when he saw what that led to? There was no hope of rescue, no hope of anything unless Kolya tossed him out. 

Which seemed unlikely to happen. He was going to die, or he was going to die. It wasn't as if he had the *resources* to run -- to make an escape, he'd need to, need to pull someone else in, which was the problem. Someone else would die, and it would be a never-ending cycle. Or he could control his death. Do it himself. That was still an option... 

But he wanted his degrees. He wanted them. He wanted to walk the walk, to hold the diploma in his hand, wear the status symbol that was a doctoral robe, before Acastus killed him. He'd done a *lot* for Acastus, a lot of service, a lot of -- it was only right that he had the fruit of all of his hard work, just for a little while. 

Because that had always been his one defiance. Some proof that he was worth something, that someone recognized he was worth something because sometimes it became hard to think about that. 

And then maybe he'd fucking cheat Kolya out of killing him. 

Take the pleasure out of it. Make it a mess that he wasn't ready to clean up. Both. He'd get his diplomas, and, and his work would be published. It would be out there. It would be useful to someone, readable, the basis for better work after his death, and as long as he left a mark, even a small smudge on the world to justify so much misery and god, Carson's death. 

Just a smudge. Rodney closed his eyes tight, and pressed in closer to Waffle. He'd do it all his way, now.

* * *

It had been a few years since John had set foot in a University and NIT was pretty much as he remembered his university, if a damn sight grander and full of the sort of people he was sure his father would approve of and despise in the same breath. 

He squinted a little eyeing up the buildings. He hadn't had much sleep. Arrangements had to be made, records hacked into and a fictional transfer for him to finish his very real Master's thesis put into place. Now he guessed he had to make his way to the Math department and find out the lay of the land, before he went tracking this Rodney McKay. 

It was a hell of a mess, just the kind that he was used to getting into. 

The assignment would have stung a little less if O'Neill hadn't called him from his office and declared, "You want a rescue mission? I've got a rescue mission for you. Don't fuck this up and go killing Gou'ald, okay?' 

At least he wasn't the only person in the SGC who could pull off a class A, prime quality clusterfuck like that. When Lorne had told him to *go*, Doctor Beckett should have gone. It was heroic and nice that he'd tried to take his target with him, but that was the kind of decision to leave to guys who had half a chance in hell at succeeding. 

Lorne had been beside himself when he had finally showed up - quicker than John had expected in fact, but by then he'd followed the signal to a freezing cold lake and diving in after a slowly sinking body because Beckett had somehow managed to get out of the car before it sank to the bottom, but he hadn't been breathing when he towed him to shore. 

He had been pale with cold, clothes heavy with the water and the blood-loss. John remembered that as he made it to the shore and did mouth to mouth and CPR until there was some thread of breathing there and literally beating a pulse back into his chest as they sprawled in the mud. 

He'd held this Beckett guy close to him, fighting death and the cold for him until help could get there - trying to warm him slowly with his own body, trying to stick a pressure bandage on the nasty looking bullet wound in his gut. And then... there had been the helicopter and eventually the man's stricken patron, pale with guilt and desperate horror, looking at him as if he was going to tell him that he's going to be fine. He couldn't say that - he still had no idea if he was going to survive and he'd been left there, still soaking, freezing to get on with the job. 

John guessed he'd get to find out in time. It was probably too touch and go to say one way or the other yet, and the guy was probably brain damaged from oxygen deprivation. If he was, he more than half hoped he didn't make it. The information he'd had since painted a picture of a likeable intelligent guy with a heart wide open and more bravery than sense. He'd tried to get McKay out, and there was no sign of McKay there. He'd dived to the car and checked. 

Hopefully, McKay was even still *alive*. That was his job to work out where he was if he was, and to work out how to get him out of there. Soviet black-ops was definitely going to be a challenge, especially with the minor fact he was technically on medical leave. Exile more like and then this. The General knew he wouldn't refuse, it was his only way of erasing the complete fuck up in Afghanistan where no-one else made it out. Apart from him. 

He'd been up most of the night, the adrenaline keeping him going. Hacked the NIT database, pretended he was from one of their partner institutions (made records there in case someone checked), called up his nearly complete Master's thesis which god, only a few years back he'd been immersed in and tried to look for something casual in his closet and remember what it had been like to be a student. 

Lots of slouching, parties and trying to toe the line, because he had no whipping boy to take any punishments for him and his father set impossible targets which meant he was always falling short of the mark. His father had wanted a perfect son, and John knew he was as far off perfect as it was possible to get. He could see the whipping boys - and girls, punishment being equal opportunity here - as he walked towards the helpfully pointed out Math department. He could just see the pairs matched up sticking close. Or the signs of a protÈgÈ trying to fit in. 

Trying to pretend they were monied. It never worked, but they still tried, tried and tried. 

Not that John knew what that kind of hell was like. But he'd served with enough men who had, and he'd studied human nature enough, fallen short of his father's expectations enough to really *get* it. So he didn't coldly brush past any of them, didn't sneer at them as he kept walking towards his new department. 

John also had to remember that when dealing with university administration, he wasn't allowed to try and garrote them with the nearest bit of electrical cord, no matter the temptation. He half smiled to himself and he navigated the building allowing himself to look a little lost, and let a few people 'help' him just so he would make a favorable impression. 

At the end of it he was outside the Head of department's office. Professor Cowen. He wished he'd had time to get background reports before he came in, but he hadn't had time. That detail had gone the way of sleep, completely out the window. 

Later. Later he could get them, and until then he had to assume that he was being watched at all times and that the entirety of the university was either corrupt or turning an active blind eye to their Colleague's tendencies. They were in on it, or pretending to not know, a or b. He *liked* to be optimistic, but he also liked to be naked at home on the sofa and really savoring some bad TV with a cold beer in his hand. You didn't get what you always wanted in life. 

So, he knocked hard, and prepared himself for the worst. 

"Come in only if you don't have a stupid question," a man's voice called out sounding irritable. 

That was a good start. It made John push the door open carefully, trying to get a look at the guy before he had to dive into it with him. 

Dean Cowen was a stocky, ruddy-faced man with curly hair that was just edging to the unattractive side of thinning, with a bad plaid suit. He was clearly living the Math Professor Stereotype. "Well, come in. Don't just stand there and gawk." 

"Hi... John Sheppard -- I'm here as part of the partnership deal with University of Colorado?" he said with a half smile trying to be deliberately pleasant. "I was told to report to you sir, to arrange resource time and consultations with experts." 

"Oh, yes -- you're our new theoretical math man, come, sit down." Cowen's face lit up, and John was hard pressed to place him as *completely* insincere. "What's your area of concentration, again?" 

"Applied Math in relation to intra and extra-atmospheric flight," John replied easily enough. The first time someone asked him that question, he'd said 'Flight.' That had probably been more truthful. "The simulators can't deal with what I'm throwing at them back home so..." He smiled again, assessing the man. 

"I'm sure that's because it's all bullshit, but there are men who handle our computers who can tell you that themselves. Well, welcome to NIT -- I'm sure you'll either do splendidly, or mount the clock tower after an all nighter while on the cusp of utter failure." 

The man was not going to win any prizes for motivational pep-talks. "Thank you sir," John replied a little dryly. "Where should I sign up to get some time on the simulators and run through a few things?" 

He was amused at Cowan behaving as if he had known about the visit for months, when John knew his administrator must've just forwarded it to him that morning, probably pretending it was a reminder of an earlier email. 

"Well, you'll want to get an account with the IT department, first -- you could try the Electronics and Communication building, or the coffee shop, where they'll be mocking your stupidity, no doubt. They'll get you started -- if you have any questions..." The man shifted, and closed the book he'd been reading. "I'm sure you can use Google to find an answer. You have an advisor...?" 

"Uh... I think the letter said a Mr. M R McKay? Could you tell me where to find him?" John asked hopefully. 

"Oh, god. You're one of *those*." His face wrinkled up a little. "By flight, you actually meant Starwars and bad science fiction novels, didn't you? What a waste. You can find Doctoral student Meredith McKay in the basement of the physics department, where all of you reach for the stars types belong. I'm sure he can tell you how best to clear space on the server for your useless..." 

"Thank you sir," John replied moving to leave. "I'm sure Mr. McKay will be able to help me further. I won't take up any more of your valuable time." 

At least he could see a glimmer of why Dr Beckett had wanted to save McKay so badly. If the guy could survive with this sort of Dean hating every aspect of his work...then he was a rare catch. 

Reach for the stars type. Yeah, if he *was* that kind of guy, he'd appreciate what the SGC did. He'd love their general outlook on life, the way they had to struggle with the military and society itself, but there were the rewards. Amazing discoveries, helping people, saving the planet, fucking up a mission... 

"Close the door behind you. You're letting the heat out into the hallway." 

He closed the door incredibly precisely, shaking his head slightly as he left. So, basement area. He'd go charm an account out of the IT guys later, but right now he had a reason to head and directly enquire after the whereabouts of Meredith Rodney McKay. 

It wasn't exactly easy. The Math department was apparently in the same huge building, but in a different wing, and the layout wasn't straight forwards. It was probably harder than it should've been, but John finally gave up on *being* lost, and taking on the lay of the land, and caught passing student's attention with lost puppy eyes. 

"Hey, uh, are you a transfer?" 

"Yeah. Gotta admit I'm a bit lost. " John said easily. "I'm trying to find a Meredith McKay? I've been wandering around here for a while but my sense of direction sucks." 

"You're looking for Professor McKay? Good luck there. His office is downstairs." He was twitching his eyebrows a little when he talked, like he was trying some kind of student-to-student communication. It probably would've worked better if John was actually a student there. "I had an undergrad class with him a couple years ago." 

"Yeah? What's he like?" John asked genuinely interested. He needed to know how McKay might react to anything he might do. 

"Overwhelming. He's a good teacher, you know? But he's an asshole, too. It's half of one and 50% of the other. You'll either love him or hate him." The student shrugged slightly. 

"Well, it's not a long term transfer, so I guess I can stick it out," John said easily. "As long as he knows his stuff it'll be fine." 

"He knows his stuff," the student confirmed. "The elevator that goes down to the basement is the one on the left. The other ones say they do, but they actually don't. Veer left, his office is at the end of the hall. He's kind of a... well dressed guy, you know? Pretty good looking." 

John smiled a little. "Thanks.. I don't think even I can get lost on that short a trip. I think I can track him down now." He raised his hand to the other student and headed off. Pretty good looking hey? Interesting." 

That was kind of a plus, and maybe a hint why Beckett had gone to bat so hard for the guy. He'd probably fallen for him while he was dealing with him as a target, which was one way to make things complicated. "Good luck. I heard from my girlfriend that he cancelled class yesterday, so I'm not even sure he'll be around." The student gave him a vague wave. 

Huh. That did not bode quite so well. Still he headed off, because that was what he would be expected to do. One rickety elevator ride later he was poking around downstairs in the basement locating what was apparently McKay's office space. 

The door was closed, for a start, but there *was* a nameplate on the door that read "M. Rodney McKay". He'd probably had the same crummy office space for a while. 

Not that there was anyone around, but he knocked and then tried the door. Not locked, so easy access and even if McKay wasn't here he was going to poke around and see if there was any information kicking around. He let himself in, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

It should have been easy. Just a simple waltz in, shuffle through the papers, get a feel for his target, move on. Go back to pretending to be a student. 

His target shouldn't have been sitting in his office with the lights turned out. There weren't any windows, so the only light was a vague computer screen glow, casting murky illumination towards the wall of the room. And its one occupant, who was staring at him. Meredith Rodney McKay was good looking, all right, in an intense, hollowed out sort of way, and he also wasn't blinking. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

"I... I knocked," John said. "Wasn't sure if I heard something so I came in. I'm looking for uh...Meredith McKay?" 

"That's me. You're looking for me because...?" He sat up from a comfortable slouch behind the desk, and hit a couple of keys on the laptop. "Turn the light on -- it's on your left." 

"Because apparently you're my advisor while I take advantage of the NIT resources," John replied looking him over. Alive was a good thing - it meant he didn't have to break in to wherever McKay and Kolya lived. But he was pale, holding himself strangely. 

John had seen that kind of posture before. He was stiff, possibly in pain -- after all, someone had just let themselves into his office. John knew that *he* would have jumped to his feet, or at least jerked, but McKay hadn't hardly moved. "Oh. Well, close the door behind you and sit down. What's your specialty?" 

"Applied math and... flight basically. Any type of flight. Especially space flight," John said closing the door and sitting down. His Masters even incomplete had got him noticed by special ops for more than his father's say so, and by people like O'Neill. 

"Yours?" 

"String theory -- I'd like to work towards a unified theory, but my dissertation is on the sustainability of wormholes. I suppose space is space to the math dean." There was a tiny bitter note to his voice, but nothing else. He shifted carefully, and leaned his forearms on the edge of the desk. "Where are you from?" 

"One of NIT's poor relations," John said easily. "University of Colorado. Wormhole sustainability huh? I have a professor who pretty much says they're impossible. I reckon if you've got the right sort of material, they would work. " 

"The problem is that no such exotic material seems to exist, but it's really just a matter of time. After all, ten years ago, the idea of a tiny music player that runs off of internal batteries and plays electric data from a solid state drive would have been laughed off the face of the earth. But, innovation marches on." He lowered the lid of his laptop, which made it easier to look at him. He looked tired, worn thin. There was definitely something wrong. 

"Yeah, but I think wormholes might be a bigger deal," John replied and he could understand why Beckett wanted this one. He was not just a prospect. He was practically the SGC's holy grail tucked away out of the limelight. "Hey, you feeling okay? Couldn't help but notice you had the lights down...I have to do that if I get a migraine." 

Not that he'd really had one for years. Not one that he let stop him. 

"A little. I'm trying to finish off the simulations that I'll use to back up my defense, so I might as well be here working." After he was kidnapped back by his benefactor, after Beckett was shot. John bet he'd have a headache, too. And here McKay was, like everything was normal. 

"Well, hey, until you log me in with simulator time, I'm at a loose end. You want me to go get a coffee for us or something?" John offered. "I could probably work out where to get some Tylenol or something if you point me to the Clinic." 

The edges of McKay's mouth pulled down tight, and his eyes dropped while he shook his head. "No, that's okay. I took something a couple of hours ago. I'll need to check you in Banner to see that you're allowed to, then I'll walk you up to the lab. Just give me a minute." 

"No problem," John replied. "You carry on, I'm fine." He sat back. Hopefully it would give him chance to trail him back home. And he wanted to sweep this office for devices. 

Rodney shot him a vaguely dirty look, but twisted a little, and opened his laptop up again. His hands slid over the keys, a quiet click click click noise while John scanned the office. It was small, cramped with papers and notepads and books, both newer and older. He probably liked to have his physicists' theories on hand, even if he had them memorized, too. The books themselves were probably what was bugged, and sweeping the place wasn't going to be an easy task. 

Or the laptop, although that might be more difficult to deal with. Or perhaps even items of Rodney's clothing - even more tricky. He just had to assume everything Rodney said to him or vice versa was being overheard. 

If this Kolya guy had really made 4 bright proteges disappear and had attempted murder on Beckett, he wasn't going to worry about adding to the body count. 

He'd do it right. He was going to get the guy out of there, and get himself out of there, hopefully in one piece. Because someone who'd *independently* gotten that deep into wormhole physics by themselves would be an asset to the SGC. He'd just shit himself when he found out that the exotic material he'd mentioned did exist, and so did wormholes. 

"Okay, what's your full name?" 

"John Sheppard." In the military, the Sheppard name was 'known' and he was used to double takes. He didn't use an alias because that would immediately flag up issues when Kolya did his inevitable checking around. 

It didn't click with Rodney. "S-H-E-P-H-E-R-D?" His hands were hovering over the keys. 

"Double P, A, R, D" John replied with a smile. Rodney was nice looking, or would be if he smiled and wasn't so pale. "Is that for the IT account?" 

"Haven't set that up, either?" He cocked an eyebrow at John, like he thought he was a little dumb. "I can do that. They'll just hate you for showing up, if you went to IT." 

"Only just got here," John said with a shrug. "Unless they did it in advance?" He smiled again. 

"About as unlikely as them forgetting to charge you for tuition hours." McKay had a way of enunciating, a hint of accent. Maybe not American, then. He needed more information on the guy. "Okay, I see you're paying lab fees and the requisite holding credit hour for research transfer." 

"Yeah," John replied. "I am." He'd hack into the files later. He hadn't had much time to do more than the preliminaries. 

But now he knew he *had* to, that it was necessary as soon as he got back to the hotel that was his base of operations for the moment. "Okay. I'll get your IT account rolling." 

"Thank you Mr. McKay," he said politely. "I guess we'll be seeing a fair amount of each other over the next few weeks." 

It made him go a little stiff-backed, and the motion of his hands stopped. He looked at John with an odd tilt of his head, like some thought had just clicked. "Will we?" 

"Well, yeah. Rumor has it you're the expert on space and math around here, and there a few things I need to iron out in my thesis," John said reasonably. So, he was wary of strangers or wary of him. 

"I'm on my way out. I graduate in May, so I can help you a little, but..." He waved one hand slightly. "I'm on my way out of this place." 

"That's great, I'm hoping to be done pretty quickly myself," John replied. "I've got most of it down, I just need to get some evidence and tighten up a few arguments." 

Which he'd been working on at the time before he got pulled out of college 

And maybe one day he really would wrap the thing up. Sometime. Even this time he was going to get caught up in the case pretty quickly. There was something about the way that McKay said 'I'm on my way out.' "What exactly *is* your dissertation?" 

"It's mainly to do with going from normal flight, to space flight," John said. "I had this idea about trying out for astronaut at some point." 

"I guess that hasn't worked out? Are you military?" He started to *look* at him again, curiously, as he typed. 

"Mission went wrong a while back. Out on convalescent leave," John shrugged. "Been picking up this in case they can't fix me up good as new." 

"It's always good to have something to fall back on." Rodney licked his bottom lip, and mouthed something at him while he kept typing. It made John wish he'd picked up on lip-reading better -- the first word was a miss, starting with a vowel from his mouth shape, then what John guessed was 'you'. Maybe. The third word was definitely something that started with an 'L'. 

He frowned a little trying to make sense of it and tilted his head and mouthed back "What? Say again?" 

"So, do you have any of your data with you, or...?" He typed a little more, hit enter, and leaned to grab a pen, and a corner of a piece of paper. With his right hand, he wrote something, and shoved it at John. 

_Are you Lorne?_

"I brought some of my drafts if you wouldn't mind taking a look," he said reaching over and scribbling _No, but I know him._

"Well, if you want my advice I'm going to have to look at your drafts." Rodney turned the piece of paper over, and wrote something else. _Tell him I'm sorry. About Carson._

"Hold on I have it here somewhere." John looked at him and placed the bag down. "Take a look." He made a decision. Rodney had caught him, so no in point pretending. He scribbled on the sheet of paper _Carson not dead, though in ICU and not good. Here to help._

Never mind that for all he knew, Doctor Beckett had died since he'd last had communication with the SGC. The relief that hit McKay's face was too intense to take that away from him, the way his expression momentarily gave way to misery while he reached for the pen, and pulled open his desk drawer with his free hand. He wrote quickly, while talking. "Okay, your password is going to be your birthday until you reset it yourself. Do you mind if I write on this draft?" 

When he turned the paper around, his handwriting beneath John's read, _Don't. Leave. He'll kill you. I can't get away._

"Go ahead...I can print out another," John replied and scribbled a reply. _We'll find a way. Will bring a jammer so we can talk._

_Just get out of here. I'm not worth it. Leave._ He turned it around again quickly, for John to read, and picked up the red pen in the same hand as the other pen. "Great. I'll just start then, so I can get an idea of what kind of resources you'll need for your simulations." 

"You want me to do anything here?" John asked and smiled. "Or you want me to come by tomorrow?" 

"Come back again tomorrow, and I'll have read it." He looked at John with an expression that was almost angry in its bleakness. Not worth it, John's ass. 

"Cool," John replied. "I'll look forward to it. See you tomorrow." He stood up and mouthed. _Tomorrow. Jammer._

Rodney shook his head, and held the piece of paper out for him to take. No evidence, right. The guy would probably eat the little scrap, or John could take that with him, too. "Sure. Hit the light on your way out." 

He took it, and left. He had to sort out his information an prepare for the fact that if Rodney knew who he was, Kolya would by default. But he could play that game. The trick was getting out of the trap alive. 

With his target still alive. 

John figured he could do it. Kolya was only human, not a Gou'ald.

* * *

It was the little things that made his mind spin in place like a guy trying to pedal a bike without wheels. Going nowhere fast, that was his head. The funny thing was that his dissertation was falling into place, little details and revelations falling into place here and there until all the work was done and he only had to wait for his prearranged date and let the thoughts and words flow. It was a separate part of him, sectioned off, carefully walled away, put apart from the Rodney that had spent the night restrained and fucked again and again, until Acastus was tired or bored of him or just couldn't get it up anymore. There was no pleasure, no enjoyment in it, because there was too much of hands around his neck, threatening, pressing his carotid, and all he could think was that he was going to take that pleasure from Acastus. 

He was going to kill himself before Acastus could do it. Or else Carson would come back and do something stupid, if he survived. Stupid like sending someone else, someone who wanted to talk, who wanted to speak with him, who really either *was* a brilliant mathematics student or was passing off someone else's work as his own as part of a mission. 

Rodney wasn't sure, but he'd scrawled over it in red anyway, errors and strikes of red and minor stupid things. The feel of the work wasn't perfect, but it was *good*, intuitive in a way that made him hate a lot of his student's work. He was sore and his gut was eating itself from the inside out. He suspected that he could, possibly, at least get into a fist fight with someone for food just then. Breakfast had been sucking Acastus's cock, which really wasn't beneficial protein, and a banana because he'd had muscle cramps in the night that had kept him from sleeping very well. Dinner the night before hadn't been much better, and there was hungry, stretched thin between carefully selected meals, and then there was shaking with it, sick and light headed and fighting to concentrate on the grading he was doing. 

Half of him really hoped that this John Sheppard would just leave, and the other half wanted him to come along before he left so he could just send messages, apologies to Carson and just everything he needed to say before he found a way to kill himself. 

If he came with food that would be even better. 

Acastus couldn't make him suffer any worse. He made sure Rodney didn't have money, change, any *means* to buy food, but if it was offered, he'd be there. He was hungry enough that dumpster diving was starting to seem like a reasonable possibility, but he'd have to do it unseen, or else he'd have to explain himself if he was caught. And if he *thought* about it, that wasn't, it wasn't anything he should have been *thinking* about. He should have been content to work and serve, which he *had* been, time for theory and time for service equal in his life, and now they were overlapping and fraying apart, and he wasn't sure whose fault that was. 

That willingness in him had broken and if what Acastus had done to him had not righted him back to that frame of mind, it was never going to happen. Which meant he was going to die because he couldn't pretend well enough. 

The more he thought about it, the less likely this John Sheppard had been the author of this dissertation. He had students working towards government research who weren't as solid in their work as that was. 

Unless he was a really spectacular agent, which was a possibility. Rodney didn't care. As long as he was doing what he'd said he was doing, if Acastus came by the office nothing would seem amiss. He's spoken of correcting a draft, and he was. It was even interesting -- the sort of aerodynamics the man was suggesting inferred the possibility of jet fighters that could break atmo, function in space, and come back. It was almost more engineering skewed, but everything was justified with math and trajectory needs. 

It was something that betrayed a need to get to space. And given sufficient funding and the right materials, the math showed it to be possible. 

There was a knock at the door. "Morning," drawled that half unexpected voice. 

Rodney had really expected for Acastus to be checking up on him. He supposed he was having trouble at home being sufficiently submissive, or sufficiently enjoying of his treatment. But he wasn't rising to it anymore, he was falling apart to it, and Acastus was stepping over lines. The sound that night, after Carson had been shot, that was hell. That was punishment, everything was punishment, and he couldn't live like that for very long. Much longer. 

"Come in," he called out. 

John Sheppard walked in, looking indecently relaxed and laid back. He was more than good looking, he was *attractive* and that meant a lot more. Carson wasn't classically good looking, but he was most definitely attractive. 

"I was running late, so I brought breakfast along." A bag was put on the table and Rodney wondered if there was some sort of file with his name on it saying, 'will respond well to food'. 

There probably was. There was probably a note that he liked men, too, and that was why good-looking, attractive men kept showing up with food. *Nice*, good looking men. The smell of it made his stomach flip flop, saliva in his mouth because he was either hungry or going to throw up. Carson had fed him, too. Maybe it was obvious that he liked food. "I appreciate that." And Kolya had *heard* that, and he was going to get beaten again for taking food from another's hand. Even if he said no, declined and didn't actually eat anything, he suspected he'd be beaten. "I've taken a look over your draft. The work is... very advanced." 

"Really?" John sounded a bit surprised. "Well... thanks. You know, I don't think my Professor at Colorado was into this sort of thing. More of an Abstract math guy you know?" 

"I'm very much about seeing theory brought to life. My other PhD is in mechanical engineering." He looked at the big paper bag, but didn't touch it himself, waiting. It was a habit he couldn't quite shake. "There are errors, of course." 

"Well, yeah. Otherwise I would be here," John replied. "Let me guess, it's in the equations to do with the transitioning from atmosphere to space. I was kinda out on a limb there. I mean, there's data about normal altitude flight and in space flight, but the bit in between gets a bit fuzzy." 

"There's data from the space shuttles," Rodney pointed out. Still no motion towards the food bag. "But they're not jets and you'd have to rework the aerodynamics. That's not even starting on the heat shielding you'd need, and the kind of precision those jets would have to be built to." 

"Exactly, which is why I need the simulators here to run the projections," John said. "Would you have time to show me the labs down here?" He showed a piece of equipment he had in his hands and mimed a pretend walk to the door. 

Rodney nodded. As long as he could *eat*, and that it really *was* food in the bag... "Sure. Don't expect a grand tour, I find campus pretty busy." 

"Just enough to get my bearings," John replied and got up conspicuously loudly to walk to the door opening and shutting it before clicking on the jammer device. "We should be able to speak freely now." 

"If you're wrong, we're both going to regret it," Rodney murmured, eyeing the bag again. "Is there food in that bag?" 

John nodded. "Dr Beckett... Carson had mentioned to Lorne about the fact you don't really get much to eat. I figured if he was in a bad mood with you, you wouldn't be getting much. Go ahead, it's all for you. I've had breakfast." 

"Oh, thank god. I'm so hungry I can't think straight." He reached to open the bag, hands shaking, while he pulled out -- oh, god, croissants, and there was a meat and cheese smell, sausage and egg, that made his stomach flip flop again. He couldn't get the wrapper open fast enough, not really, and he sat back with it clutched in both hands, taking a quick bite. "Oh, god." 

"Easy, easy. Eat it too fast and you'll be seeing it again pretty quick," John said. "Especially if you've not eaten much recently. If anything from the look of you." 

"We don't want to talk about what I had for breakfast before this." He took a deep breath, still cradling it close, and took a slower bite. It was so good, good beyond words, soft and buttery, with meat and cheese and egg in it, all fats and things he wasn't supposed to have but in moderation when he'd been very very good. "You shouldn't do this. It's, Carson got shot because of me." 

"And pretty much drowned as well, considering he managed to get himself out of the car, but had difficulty with the cold lake," John said dryly. "But, he's still fighting to stay alive and Major Lorne thinks it's because he's got a pretty damn good reason. And I'd hate to disappoint the guy by telling him we managed to get you killed in the mean time." 

"I'm managing to get myself killed fine by myself. He'll keep me until he can find a replacement, which means I don't have much time." He'd probably never even get a chance to warn the poor bastard, but he knew that Acastus would. He was too used to it, and he'd already had everything when he'd come into the picture. Of course there were others. Rodney had just lived longer, borne it better. 

"If I didn't think the same thing would happen with us as it did to you and Dr Beckett we would be running now," John replied. "Plus, I'm working on the assumption he is going to work out a little of who I am. If not a lot. And that I will pique his interest because he is going to want to know who sent me. Hopefully I will distract him until we can nullify all his steps, and then we'll get the hell out of Dodge." 

"That'd be more funny if we weren't in Illinois." He took another careful bite, savoring the taste, the heat of fresh food. "So, just who are you?" 

"John Sheppard. Major John Sheppard, but I am on convalescent leave like I said. Pretty much all of it is true aside from the fact that this visit here was planned." The man smirked a bit. 

Like he was proud of himself. He probably was, but Rodney couldn't help but jerk his head to the thesis on his desk. "So is that your work or not?" 

Sheppard shrugged. "Yeah, it is. Did it a while back. Never got chance to finish it because I got, ah, selected and *strongly* encouraged to go on certain missions." 

"It's still good work. You should finish it." At least it was his. That was a little heartening, that they'd sent someone intelligent. He took another bite, determined to eat what he had before he stuck his head into the bag again to see what else there was. "So you're hoping to do what again?" 

"Get you out of here and finish Kolya," John said as if it was going to be easy. "Who knows, I might get it done now. Look, McKay, Kolya's going to ask stuff about me. Just give it up for him. I need to see his moves to counter them." 

"And in return for this you're..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders tightly. "You'll get me out of here. And I can see Carson?" 

"Sure. Look, the truth is, he's in a bad way," Sheppard said. "I don't know if he's gonna make it or not, I don't want to give you false hope. But we get out of here, and the first thing we'll do is get you to see him. And in return for this..." He shrugged. "It's my job. I reckon Beckett told a few people enough to get them really interested in you." 

Didn't know if he was going to make it or not. He'd been drowned, in cold water, after being shot. It wasn't as if he expected Carson to... to just appear, better and okay. He was probably brain damaged, which was, was, Rodney couldn't think about it. He didn't want to, because Carson was intelligent and it was *his* fault, Rodney's own fault if that intelligence was ruined, but John was already there and he couldn't undo what had happened. He could try to make amends. He could be there to see Carson again, thank him, just, just something. Rodney wasn't sure, because every night back home was a tentative thing and he couldn't count on tomorrow coming. "Okay. What do you want me to do?" 

"Survive." Sheppard said. "Look, Kolya is Black Ops. I have a similar back ground. We're going to be playing a game of sorts and you are going to be in the middle. I'm talking to you now to basically say, just go ahead, don't suffer to keep back information. I am planning for that. The only thing I want you to do right now is tell me how Kolya is behaving, if he asks anything specific. He'll either try and kill me direct, or he will more likely try and get a hold of me to work out who sent me. Either way, he might try and use you. Be ready for it." 

"I'm used to being used." He squished the croissant a little, but the flatter it was, the easier it was to eat, so Rodney kept chewing through his nervousness. 

John winced a little. "Yeah, I gathered that. Kolya's a controller, I can do that and improvise too, so I'm hoping we can do this. I'll make sure I bring stuff for you to eat as well. Any requests?" 

"Just... food. I'm not picky. He's punishing me for taking food from someone else in the first place." The indigence was from his years of perfect, loyal service, Rodney supposed. He'd been good, so good, and it took so little to undo it all. Because Carson was right. 

"Don't know if Beckett ever mentioned it, but controlling food is part of the brainwashing process," John replied seriously. "And half of breaking that is in realizing there is something there to be broken." 

"He mentioned it vaguely. That sometimes you need to hear someone else say something for it to click. I've, I was sixteen when I agreed to be his protÈgÈ. I thought I'd be doing his research, or errands." Rodney shifted, slouched a little, as much as his aching body would allow the position. 

"Which is pretty much all it should've been," John replied. "That's a hell of a long time." He patted in his pockets a moment. "Nearly forgot. Got you some stronger painkillers and a few preventative antibiotics. If you haven't been to the clinic, you could get sick." 

"I can't keep them on me. He'll find them. He comes into my office when I'm not here, I can't keep them in a pocket. I'm not allowed to go to the clinic again." And if he wanted to survive, he really couldn't break any more rules than food. He couldn't. 

"Then take them now, and I'll keep them handy," John replied. "But take some. Better than nothing." 

"Right." He reached his hand out, and god. It could have been poison but if it as, that was okay, too. He was going to have to trust someone. Someone acting in Carson's name was as good a reason as any for him to offer that trust. 

The pills were tipped out of a bottle. "Trust me, these babies work like magic." He could see the prescription on the side of the bottle. Major John Sheppard. Interesting. 

"What is it?" He asked it while he tipped them back into his mouth, swallowing dry. He supposed that it made the question moot, but he wanted to know. 

"Painkillers. Something like vicodin but stronger." He half smiled. "I wasn't lying about the convalescing part, I just heal up quicker than they think." 

"At least you're making the most of it." Rodney swallowed again, but he didn't feel very sorry for taking the man's pills. If it blurred him out a little, okay. That was okay. "Thanks." 

"No problem. I guess we should return from our fictional walk now. Anything else you need or want to ask?" Sheppard asked him. 

He wanted to get out, right away, but panic would get him no-where. "When you go to the labs -- it's the third floor, you really can't miss it -- tell them you're working with McKay and need space. Also, if Carson -- I want him to know I'm sorry. If you find out he's awake. I'm sorry." 

Sheppard nodded then got up and walked to the door again. He gave him a moment and the turned off the jammer before opening and closing the door. "So Rodney, you think those computers are doing to handle my simulations? You said they struggle with the wormhole ones and ...I'm not sure how much more complex they can be than my equations." 

"The dean will routinely take your space and lower your available clock speed. You'll have to keep a eye on the specs," Rodney answered without missing a beat. He finished his croissant, and reached quietly into the bag to get a donut out. "And don't just trust the IT guys. Check them yourself." 

"Considering they'd told me it'd take a week to get an ID up and running and you did it in minutes, I'm pretty much taking that as a given," John replied. "Thanks for the look around. You mind if I drop in on you tomorrow with today's results? Go over a few things?" 

"Sure. Here, take this draft with you, and come back tomorrow with your corrections." He meant that seriously, too, which was probably the silly thing of it all, the absurd moment in a hundred. But he scarfed down the donut, and held out the notes with his other hand. 

"Thanks. I'll work on it. See you tomorrow Rodney," and he turned and gave that smirk even as he was headed out the door. 

That smirk was going to hang in his mind. By the time he got home, Kolya would have done some research, would have made assumptions about things unheard while they 'walked', and Rodney's head hurt. He needed to just blank his mind. 

He needed to just keep surviving.

* * *

Kolya stopped his contemplation a moment. He'd had enough time now to research this newcomer and look over the details and it put an entirely different complexion onto things. Cowen had alerted him to the man's presence, and he'd taken time to get a few looks at him himself. 

The military walk was un-disguisable. It always was, but on the other hand that information was readily available. Record searches showed him on indefinite medical leave and he checked to see if that was a ruse, but if it was, the military hospital knew about it. 

And had a catalogue of injuries. His previous tour of duty was in Afghanistan, so there was an easy line of assumption to draw, between Afghanistan and the medical leave. But for all that he appeared to be there legitimately, it was too much of a coincidence. The man was there, possibly following up on the dearly departed Doctor Beckett's disappearance, or perhaps there to pick up where the man had left off. 

The problem was, he wasn't sure which. Beckett's military connection had been the Lorne family and maybe this was something personal to them, or more worrying, an actual US military interest. He needed to know which, because killing Rodney would be difficult. Killing Sheppard could be interesting though, a challenge he hadn't experienced for some time. 

He looked over at Rodney, curled up with Waffle on the floor, uninhibited in his affection for the other dog. What did he want to do about this situation? 

Rodney was interacting with the man, on a daily basis, as he had with Doctor Beckett. And at home, he was acting much the same as he always had. Not quite so quick to obey, not so obviously content with his situation. He was a chastened puppy, well aware that he'd done wrong. And was possibly still doing wrong, which opened the option of using Rodney against the new threat. 

It could be interesting. If Rodney could lure the man there, Acastus could find what he needed from him, and if necessary enjoy himself a little at the same time before he disposed of him. 

"Rodney. Come. I wish to talk with you." 

He watched Rodney press his face against Waffle's fur for a long moment before he levered himself to his feet. He was moving slowly, and the wounds on his back still had a reddish glow to them, but they were healing. Acastus's pet would continue to live, at his discretion. 

"You have a new... student. Associate... a John Sheppard I believe," Kolya said. "Tell me about him." 

He knew Rodney would've been waiting for him to ask and probably wondering why he hadn't. 

Rodney shifted, squared his shoulders back as he stood up. He had a beautiful form, a strong chest, flat belly that curved inwards, dick hanging soft between his legs. No shame in himself, no, and that was Acastus's doing. "He's military, finishing his master's thesis." 

"Hmm." He beckoned Rodney closer. "And fine looking as well, I note." 

Let him think that he was shopping for a replacement. That fear would do him good. 

"He is." Rodney confirmed it quietly, and he didn't look up at Acastus as he stepped closer. 

"Are you attracted to him?" Kolya questioned him mildly. He left the threat implicit of what lies would bring. 

Rodney was intelligent, caught onto implicit threats a little better than he caught onto and responded to the obvious ones. "Yes. I, I am." 

"Hmm." Kolya beckoned him over. "He strikes me as interesting. He intrigues me. He is intelligent?" 

Rodney edged up towards the couch Acastus was sitting on, and then knelt down carefully. "He is, sir. He's smarter than he acts." 

He stroked Rodney's hair and then smiled. "Rodney, I have a task for you. You will seduce this John Sheppard and as an incentive..." He gestured to a stack of large envelopes that sat on the side table. "I will let you chose one of these. He will keep me... entertained in the interim." 

Rodney's eyes lit up, but his mouth pulled down, and he did not reach for the envelopes immediately. "Sir... how do you want me to, to seduce him?" 

"You will respond to his transparent advances. You will use those techniques I have taught you. Then when I feel the time is right, you will bring him here to me. Lure him into a secure position. The rest will be my concern," Kolya replied. 

"Yes, sir. I will, I'll do that." He swallowed -- he would be uncomfortable with the task, Acastus had no doubt, but he could do it. 

It would serve as a punishment as much as anything else. Of course he would still have to kill him, but he could lead him on, stop him from being skittish. "Good. We should have this in place for when you have completed your defense." 

"I'll... I will have to move quickly, then? Sir?" And he could help Rodney along with that, dress him more provocatively. 

"Indeed. I will place suitable clothes out for you. I will expect a full report on your progress at the end of each day." Rodney could be endearing, and attractive and Sheppard would be looking for a way in and would think his luck was in. 

"Yes, sir. Do you require any service of me tonight?" He was still all skittish nerves, not the smooth offers Acastus was used to. 

He considered for a moment. Some things would be sweeter for the waiting. "Not tonight. You will rest. I expect you to make progress rapidly." 

Rodney's lips parted slightly, and then he closed his mouth, and pulled away. He could take whatever implications he wanted from that statement, and no doubt he could. 

Kolya didn't care. It would be interesting to play a game with a professional, sharpen his wits again. He hoped this Sheppard would provide a challenge for him, no one really had for many many years.

* * *

John had splashed out on pretty much full breakfast for Rodney this time. Rodney was still too pale. He knocked and he let himself in, pretty comfortable with Rodney and his habits now, but he stopped. 

Rodney looked different. "Hey Rodney." 

Different was a gentle way to say it. His hair was less mussed, more carefully styled, and he was wearing a v-neck sweater sans his usual undershirt. "John! Good to see you -- why don't you close the door behind you. Did you work on those corrections?" 

"Sure," he said. He had, in between his other work, which had been pretty tough last night. Unraveling Kolya's network was proving to be a nightmare, more suited to a team rather than one person, but John himself was all John had to fall back on. He was hunting and silencing each resource Kolya had connections with because right now the man was like a spider in the middle of a web . Carson and Rodney had been in the centre of the trap before they even tried to escape -- there was no way they could've gotten through.

Anyway, he'd had some thinking time on his stake out and Rodney had a way of cutting o the heart of a problem that made corrections easy. "You want to go over it over breakfast? Brought mine in again." 

"That sounds fine. So, how're you doing?" That was chattier than Rodney usually was, like he was some kind of crappy pod person, because his face had lines of tension on it. 

"Fine.." He tilted his head questioningly at Rodney. "Here, here's the draft and I thought you might like a bagel and a bacon sandwich." He pushed he bag over and took out a coffee for himself. 

Rodney reached for it quickly, and at least *that* was normal. Rodney cocked his eyebrows, and glanced vaguely around the room. "After we go over the changes, I thought you might want to go for a walk? There's a pretty quiet place by just off campus." 

"Well...sure. If you want," John said in a drawling voice. "I've been meaning to find a good jogging route - If you're not so busy." 

Kolya must've told him something. Asked him to do something. He sipped at his coffee. 

And until the jammer was turned on, or Rodney went for pen and pencil, he wasn't going to find out. "Like I said, I'm all caught up on what I need to do. The only thing I can accomplish right now is overworking my work." He gave a loose shrug of his shoulder, eating the bagel in quick bites. 

"You work fast... Does that means I get to exploit you until you've done your defense?" John asked gesturing for him to help himself to more. Looked like Rodney was encouraging him so he would flirt back. 

"That's one thing you could do." Rodney's voice slipped a little, and he smiled at John as he reached for the sandwich. 

"Great, that means I will get this done before my time is up here. Your notations were very useful. Clarified some stuff I was thinking through. You're right, I am looking at it from a practical perspective because I want the jet built at some point. You never know, maybe if they declare me fit I can get them to take a look." 

"If anyone could talk them into at least trying it, I bet you could." Rodney took a bite of the sandwich, and he dropped his eyes a little peculiarly, scanning John. He was... checking him out? 

"You think it's worth even trying?" he asked and stared at Rodney for a minute. He was betting there was some instruction behind this so he would just play along. 

"Why not? Worst case scenario, they say no. If it went through, it could make manned space flight, done on a regular basis, much more affordable for our government." Rodney dragged his eyes up, and lifted his eyebrows again. "I personally like rocket ships." 

"...So do I." John was on the verge of laughing. "How about we take that walk and discuss the paper at the same time huh?" 

Rodney nodded sharply, taking a few more fast bites of his sandwich. John didn't see the sense in telling Rodney to slow down -- he never did it. "That sounds like a great idea." 

"Okay, I'll just finish my coffee a moment," John said in a drawl and sat back, giving Rodney time to eat his fill. He couldn't wait to hear this. 

And Rodney did eat his fill -- he polished off the sandwich in speeds that John hadn't seen people do since boot camp, when they had instructors yelling at them that they had places to be, things to do. "You know what goes really well with coffee?" 

"Aside from bagels?" John replied watching Rodney carefully. 

"Blowjobs." He deadpanned it so easily that John *did* choke on his coffee, hot liquid hitting his lungs instead of his stomach. 

"Well... blowjobs go pretty well with most things. They never really go out of fashion," John replied after a pause. He mouthed 'What are you doing?' at Rodney 

"True, but they go really well with coffee. Do you want to go now?" He mouthed something back, and John was half sure he'd said the word 'seduce'. 

"Yeah. I think so," John said getting up, getting his jammer out. "Talk a few things over." 

"Great. Close the door behind you?" Rodney stood up, so there was the sound of his chair scooting back. 

John did the obligatory opening and closing of the door and flicked on the jammer. 

"Blowjobs, Rodney?" 

"I'm supposed to try to seduce you," Rodney declared miserably, and he sat back down. 

"You could just rip my pants off in front of everyone," John said trying not to laugh. "That might work." 

"Shut up." There was a shaky edge to Rodney's laugh, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "I have no idea what I'm doing, and Acastus expects me *to* know what I'm doing." 

"You know, coffee and blowjobs are something I'm looking forward to seeing out there in the dating scene," John replied unable to stop from grinning, even as he patted Rodney's arm absently. "Whole new meaning to having extra creamer.." 

Rodney shook his head, eyes covered, and he was at least laughing a little while he did it. "I'm no good at this," Rodney sighed. "I mean, he really expects me to seduce you, and fast, and it's not something I've ever done, and this is never going to work." 

"Hey, I could be easy and a slut," John said comfortably. "Plus, he's probably banking on the fact that I'm going to *want* to be seduced to win your confidence." 

He was ridiculously pleased to have made Rodney smile. It made such a difference to him. 

"So now you're both laughing at me," Rodney bemoaned quietly. "You were right, I really am caught between the two of you in this game." 

"The difference being that I'm on your side," John replied more seriously. "Don't worry Rodney, I'm pretty easy to seduce. Did he say anything more about what he was planning? Did he hurt you to get you to do this?" 

That was something he worried about. If Kolya lost his tenuous grip on sanity before he was ready, and Rodney wouldn't stand a chance. He still wasn't sure what Kolya was like when he *had* a grip on sanity, because Rodney wasn't particularly forthcoming about his treatment from Kolya. Rodney shook his head. "No, it was a quiet night last night. Which is why I suspect he wanted me to gain a lot of ground today." 

"Look, when we come back from the 'walk' I'll do a bit of reluctant 'I'm not sure if this is right' stuff and we'll finish up with kissing okay? That's pretty fast for a first time out, and I need a bit more time," John said. "So he didn't hurt you...that's good. Did he say what he was planning though?" 

"He wants me to give him details on what I've done. He's planning to have me lure you home at his signal. Probably once I've defended my dissertation." Rodney shifted, swallowed hard, and finally stopped rubbing at his face. "As a reward, he'll let me pick one of the response letters from some of the places I've applied to." 

"Which presumably is meant to convince you that he's going to let you go," John replied. "Assuming you lure me back on his signal, what do you think he is planning to do then?" 

He could make a guess, but Rodney knew a lot about the man's methods that John would have to take time to find out. And he didn't have that time. 

"Fuck you. Torture you." Rodney wasn't quite looking at him, and he licked his bottom lip. "Play with you until he's bored. And kill us both." 

"Hmm." Not something he particularly wanted to have happen if he could avoid it. Seen enough of that sort of thing already. There was always the possibility that if he suspected Rodney, Kolya might make that move on his own to make sure Rodney wasn't colluding too much with John. Kolya would assume he would, which... If John was in his position, he would set this up, then make his own move while his opposition was occupied. Games within games. 

He'd have to plan around this possibility. "What sort of equipment does he use as restraints?" 

"Depends on his mood. Usually it's just a collar, some..." Rodney's face was starting to glow red over top of pallid. "Soft leather straps with D-rings. But, he has handcuffs, wrist cuffs, suspension, chains, spreader bars. More of those, lately, since he hasn't been happy." 

"Uh-huh." John started mentally tallying up what he would need to start secreting on his person, just in case. "I suspect he is not going to take chances." 

Jesus, it was a miracle Rodney was still alive. 

And interacting, and *willing* to play along with John. For all he knew, John was going to use him as much as Acastus had, but Rodney was still there, talking to him, trying to flirt badly with him. "No, I doubt it. I've never fought what he does, but I think if I tried, I wouldn't have a chance in hell." 

"I'm pretty sure you're stronger than you give yourself credit for," John replied. "Look, if I can help it, I don't want to let it get to that stage, but I've got a feeling that we're not going to get out of this without facing down Kolya." 

"Can't you just..." Rodney waved a hand slightly. "Snipe him?" 

"Believe me, I would if I could," John replied. "But he'll have a contingency plan that will occur in the event of his capture or death." 

And he most definitely did, the most secure one he'd come across. Working flat out, it was going to take him time to unravel and he had to get that completely dealt with before he could even attempt to whisk Rodney away. 

"And, if he inexplicably dies, you will end up as the murder suspect and I don't want that. Most places have a policy of no Patronage offers for even an accusation of a major crime." 

Rodney's face twisted downwards for a moment, and he sat back in his chair. "Oh, god. Then what are we going to *do*? He's not going to just let me go." 

"Relax Rodney. I didn't spend all last night doing thesis corrections," John replied. "I'm working on it. Plan A is to unpick his contingency plans and then spirit you away unseen. Plan B will be to unpick the contingency plans and if necessary take you out by force, and plan C... we're hopefully going to avoid, because I'd rather not get that close to him." 

It all depended on how insane Kolya was, and how paranoid. If he had things rigged to a dead man's button or something... John *hoped* not. He hoped the guy was so fucking overconfident that he hadn't bothered. 

"Okay. Okay." Rodney shifted, sucked in a shaky breath, and stood up from his chair. He still moved like he was in a little pain. "We should probably be getting back from the walk now." 

"So you ready to try out a bit of kissing?" John asked. It wasn't going to be a chore for John at least, but only a few days or so ago, Rodney had been in love. Was in love still, with a man who was keeping them guessing in the survival stakes. 

So turning around and doing that with John had to screw with his head a little. That was probably why Kolya had come to that decision, that Rodney should seduce him, because he knew it'd hurt. That was devious and sick, at the same time. "I'm supposed to be moving fast," Rodney warned quietly. 

"I know. Don't worry. We'll give him plenty to see over the next few days," John replied. He got up and went to the door and click off the jammer just before he opened and closed the door while talking. "I'm... not sure Rodney. I mean I really like you but... isn't this sort of thing frowned on by the dean?" 

He made himself sound hesitant but at the same time obviously interested. 

"The dean doesn't care, trust me. It's not as if I can influence your grades, right? You're just here to finish your research." Rodney said it casually as he could, John guessed, leaning against the front of his desk. 

"No...but..." He gave a self depreciating laugh. "I guess I'm thinking more of the military. Not that we couldn't have relations with guys but more you didn't uh... dip your rod in your own pond sort of thing. " 

"You can dip your rod in my pond anytime." Rodney cracked a smile, at least knowing that it sounded horrible. "I'm serious, we don't have any rules against it, and you're not in any of my classes. I'd never touch one of my students." 

John let himself chuckle a little. "You know that has to be the worse metaphor ever? And I used it first. If you're sure it won't get you into trouble - or me for that matter. Don't want to be dealing with a jealous partner beating their way to my door." 

"Trust me, there's nothing to worry about." There was everything to worry about, but Rodney edged towards him, slow, smooth-moving finally. "No-one is going to get in trouble." 

John raised an eyebrow at him and turned a little to face him. "Then I guess there is no reason not to, huh? And a lot of reason's I can see in front of me to at least give it a go." 

"At least give it a chance." Rodney reached a hand up, which John didn't expect, curling his fingers against the edge of John's jaw. 

"As you've asked so nicely..."John looked at him, into his blue eyes and mouthed 'Gonna be okay' to him. 

That was his job. He'd make it okay, and the going along with seduction was his *job*. But he still anticipated the motion of Rodney's fingers, the press of his mouth when he leaned into John and finally kissed him. 

John didn't think he was a slouch when it came to kissing, but Rodney was definitely an expert. He'd half thought it would be a bit of play acting, but it had been a long time and Rodney could kiss... 

Oh god, he could kiss... 

John leaned in, reaching to hold him closer, to make it last longer because no one said he didn't have to enjoy this just because it was a necessary fiction. 

He could enjoy it. If he was going to get laid somewhat against his will, he might as well savor it, might as well make the most of it. Rodney *knew* what he was doing, and probably as long as he kept his mouth shut, he really could have seduced John. His hand slid along the line of John's jaw, curled at the nape of his neck, lips parted while he tipped his head slightly for better friction. 

It would've been too easy to skip straight to the coffee and blow-jobs. John made his kiss deep in response, pulling Rodney in close against his body, smoothing a hand down his back gently even as they went for the endurance record of kissing without breathing. 

Or close. He was pretty sure that Rodney was breathing through his nose, slow and careful, not pulling away from John, and fuck, fuck, there was tongue sliding into his mouth, and Rodney was groaning. *That* was how to make progress. 

He responded in kind and it was like seeing a careless spark ignite rocket fuel. This stopped being pretend, stopped being a game with Rodney being a pawn between then. No, if this were about chess, Rodney was the King who needed protecting at all costs. 

He wasn't sure what that made him aside from pretty ready to have sex there and then on the desk. 

And if he asked, Rodney would. He *knew* it, and he could tell, because Rodney pressed himself against John in such a way, groin against his hip, that he could tell he was already half hard, if not harder. He was probably used to going from 0 to 60 in no time flat. 

John couldn't do that. Not now. It would make it too quick and he wasn't ready to be lured in yet. He had to make sure he was ready. So he pulled back a little, half panting himself. "Wow. I mean... wow." 

Rodney leaned back, and exhaled hard. "Wow." 

"If I do that again now, I'm not going to be able to concentrate on anything all day..." John replied swallowing. "Fuck, no wonder you were so confident about offering blowjobs with coffee." 

"I can show you how a really good blowjob should go," Rodney offered, and he leaned hard against John's hip, grinding his dick against John. Jesus. That was different from the Rodney McKay who called people stupid. 

"I bet you can..." And he was tempted. He was a professional and he was tempted and no wonder Kolya had confidence in his ploy. "Rodney, I can't now." 

He mouthed the words 'We need time' so Rodney would know it was not for lack of wanting. 

"Right, right. Not enough time. I, I've got class at two, too." Rodney swallowed, leaned back and reached down to rearrange himself. "I don't have class tomorrow, just hours..." 

"I can catch you then." And there was no acting to bring the eagerness into his voice. "If that's okay?" 

"Yeah. That's fine. Uh, we should probably talk more about your thesis, so I'll, uh, re-read it." Rodney turned away, breathing hard. It was like John had flipped a switch in him, and he had to get himself back together. 

"Right... thanks. I better get going. Lab time like gold dust and all that," John answered backing away towards the door. 

"Yeah." Rodney had his back to John, and he waved one hand slightly, and threw him a thumbs up. As if to reassure John he was okay. "I'll be seeing you." 

"Tomorrow..." John said as he left the office. He'd been so sure he wouldn't react like that, so damn sure because he never reacted like that to anyone. 

He would just have to be more careful, and find somewhere to take care of something very personal and very urgent. Somewhere like an unoccupied men's room. Then he could get back to researching what kind of standbys Kolya had in place.

* * *

Life was quiet. 

Rodney was used to it being quiet, used to that, but he knew he was still in trouble, so it had to be part of the plan. It had to be part of the plan against John, nothing at all to do with him, but the quiet night of sex had been okay, and he'd been allowed to sleep on the floor with Waffle, allowed to sleep in a little. He'd had food. All for kissing John. There had been instructions to get closer to John, do anything and *everything* they could do discretely in his office. No dick up his ass, though. That was the stopping line -- Rodney supposed that was Kolya's final line, the signal that he'd use to lure John 'home'. 

But there was a pretty broad range of activities between kissing and real fucking, and Rodney couldn't kick a head-full of images out of his mind because it was nothing like the impromptu kissing and holding on, just for comfort, he'd done with Carson. This was premeditated, good, but, but... 

It made Rodney's head hurt more than the act of waiting for his defense to arrive. 

He was being rewarded for being unfaithful when every ingrained habit had him quaking in anticipation of retribution. He didn't know whether John had been playing along or if he was so desperate for physical contact that he just had that sort of reaction to someone nearly a stranger. He just didn't know and the more he thought about it, the more it hurt his head. 

Because John had reacted, really reacted. And maybe Rodney was that desperate for gentle contact himself, because it had been easy to do that with John. So it felt like he was cheating twice over, once on Acastus and again on Carson, and maybe he was just attuned to sex. In general. He wasn't sure, but he knew that he couldn't fake what Acastus wanted him to do. He couldn't just play voice-acting theatre and have it come out right. 

The door opened without a knock this time, and John came in, closing the door behind him and turning on the jammer. "Hey Rodney.. thought we should start with the talking this time." 

He seemed to be favoring his leg just a little today. 

Which made Rodney wonder if something had happened, if he'd had a confrontation with someone, or or... Rodney wasn't sure, but a hundred different bizarre scenarios started up in his head. "Probably a good idea. What happened to your leg?" 

"Did a bit too much on it yesterday," John replied with a smile. "It gets like this." 

He wasn't sure if he believed that. 

"You know, after yesterday, I started to appreciate why Kolya thought the seduction technique would work." 

"Given that my goals in life are to work on my theories and keep Acastus pleased, it shouldn't surprise you. He was pleased with my report, and the sound bites, I'm assuming." He tried to not react, tried to not blush or flush or anything else. 

"Yeah, well you are once hell of a kisser," John replied. "Just in case you thought I was faking that." He smiled again, "He was pleased? Good. Did he say anything?" 

"I'm supposed to let you do anything you want, but stick your dick in me." He had to blurt it out that way, words strung together quick, because it wasn't how he'd ever wanted to negotiate any kind of relationship, friend or otherwise, in his life. "In fact, I'm supposed to *encourage* it. Which the pants that feel like they're painted on are supposed to be telling you." 

"I can hear them yelling across the room," John replied. "Rodney, I -- dammit, I'm not good at this. I know this is hard for you, okay? I don't want you forcing yourself to do stuff you don't want to do." 

Which was ironic, Rodney supposed, because if John *really* didn't want Rodney doing things he didn't want to do, he could have left Rodney to die. Not much of a choice to make, really. At least he still had a tentative hope to hang onto. "What do you think I *do* every night when I go home? I'm Acastus's *pet*. I sleep with the dog. We either do this, or my best option is shooting myself in the head out in public so at least I get to inconvenience him for *once* in his life." 

"Rodney..." John was looking at him. "What I'm trying to say is I want to know what help I can give you. If I can do things for you rather than making it all about what you have to do okay? I know what you have to do, that's why I want to make it as easy as I can for you." 

And *that* was the part that didn't make sense to him, because John was already there, trying to get him out of there, trying to get him somewhere safe, away from Acastus. And wasn't that enough? "I don't know. I don't even know what you're asking." 

"I'm asking what would make it easier for you," John replied patiently. "You want me to blow you? Any of that? Seriously... I just thought that it might help." 

Oh. Reciprocal sex. Right. Rodney rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Sure. Whatever. I just thought we'd go with it." 

"We will. And, they've got Carson stabilized finally. He hasn't come round yet, and he's still in the ICU but it's a bit more promising okay?" John murmured. "Thought you'd want to know that." 

Stabilized. Stabilized after *days* of not being, and he was still in the ICU, but maybe he'd live. And maybe he'd be in a state where life was worth living when he came to. "Yeah." A little of the snap left his voice, because he did want to know, because it made him a little less likely to consider the killing himself option that he had. It wasn't living for love, not exactly, but trying to make Carson's sacrifice worth it. "Thanks. So, uh... do you want to 'come in' now?" 

"Yeah okay," John and went back outside, presumably clicking off the jammer before he knocked and came in. "Hey Rodney... Sorry, I got a bit caught up. I was hoping to get here first thing but instead of breakfast how about I take you out to lunch huh?" 

"Oh, uh, sure, we could do that," Rodney said -- he was never sure if it was an honest offer or a fake one that John was using as an excuse to turn on the jammer that he'd gotten from presumably some military group. But he really didn't have food with him, and Rodney wasn't sure that John understood how much he depended on food from him. "I looked over your thesis and it's definitely tighter." 

"That's a good start," John said coming over and sitting on the table next to him. "Not so many idiotic mistakes huh?" 

"Not so many. There's a few..." He reached for the thesis, and stuck it out towards John, leaning back in his chair. "And I've marked them in red. I've also pointed out areas where you can shore up your argument with data from the simulations." 

"Great. What about that bit where I start hypothesizing about inertia-less flight? Is that relevant or should I just cut it out?" John asked seriously. 

Because he really wanted to fix his Thesis, and all Rodney could think about was when it would be good to resume the on-microphone seduction. "I'd move that to the back end and classify it as an exploration of other avenues of research related to your own." 

"Right. I'll do that. You know, I thought it was going to take weeks to fix this thing...looks like I've done the worst of it. You make great notes. Even the ones where you compare my intelligence to a retarded gnat," John said still smiling. "Especially those ones." 

"You typed 'plus' instead of 'equal' -- it's a *mindblowingly* stupid mistake to make at this level, particularly compared to the rest of the work on the thesis, well, and a few other mindblowingly stupid mistakes. But you are nearly done." Rodney nodded, and tapped the top of the now worn looking manuscript. 

"That means I'm going to have a bit of spare time," John replied with a smile. "Once I get my typologically challenged fingers under control. If you need any help with anything... I'll be available?" 

So John was coming on to him now? 

He wasn't sure how that'd sound to Acastus, but at least he'd gotten it started and seamlessly into the conversation. "I could... think of something you could help me with, before we head out for lunch?" 

"I'm sure you can..." John replied and then gave a low chuckle. "I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that half the reason for misplaced plus signs were because I had my mind on other distracting things Rodney." 

"What we talked about yesterday?" Rodney shifted, pushed his chair back a little because he was going to stand up. Once they started, it would just flow, and Rodney could shake off his nerves. 

"Yeah, because, you know you are right. You're not grading my work. That's not going to even happen in this University," John replied. "And, you kiss like..." Words seemed to fail him. 

Rodney couldn't help but smile a little as he stood up. "Maybe you could describe it better if we did that again." 

"You know sometimes I can be pretty bad with words," John said. "This might take a bit of work. You mind if I lock the door? Hate being interrupted when a... word is on the tip of my tongue." 

"So do I." If they were going to do anything, the last thing Rodney wanted was the odd chance that someone might stick their head into his office. Not that it ever happened often, but the one time he got cocky, that's when someone would come in. 

John paced over, and locked the door. "So... want to go over yesterday's material?" 

"If it's what I think you're referring to by 'yesterday's material', yes. Let's go over it." Rodney shifted, and leaned against the edge of his desk, facing the chair John had been sitting in. 

John returned to where he was stepping in close, his hand reaching to trace the line of his jaw before he leaned in to kiss. And there is was again, smoother, easier than he had expected. That spark igniting. 

It was there, but Rodney wasn't sure if it was real or false, or just stress and relief, because John was probably the last good sexual experience he'd ever have in his life, because the clock was ticking. 

Either way it didn't seem to matter because everything went out of his head except the kiss and the contact and how easy it was to lose himself to something that felt good. Really good. John had the passion but he was not forcing Rodney, or trying to control him. He was just letting things run riot. 

He was just letting things happen, kissing him, making it easy for Rodney to lean into him. John did make it easier, and Rodney pushed back against him, pressed his hips against John's while he tasted the other man's mouth. More touching, gentle but insistent. Kisses like he was worth something, meant something and Sheppard was pressing against him as the intensity sparked again between them into genuine arousal. 

He wanted to be worth something, *mean* something, except that he knew he didn't. But it still felt good, still got him hard in no time at all, because this time John was pressing back, a lot less deer in the headlights about the whole thing. 

When he surfaced for breath, he whispered "Rodney..." in a tone that pierced to his bones. He was fucked up, he knew that. He knew this wasn't real but just for a moment he wanted it to be real so when John kissed him again, he let himself go with it, more instinctive and responsive. 

He could do that, separate himself away that way, until all there was was that part of him that wanted to be tangled up in something that felt good, no matter what it was, separate of science and preparation, and possibly sanity. "Let me, oh, god, let me touch you..." 

"Yeah, fuck... yeah, if you want...." But there were hands reaching down to caress him and smooth over his groin through those skin tight trousers. 

And he wanted to, wanted to push John back and do that to him, and maybe, maybe he could explain to John that that was exactly what he wanted to do, take a little control, but they couldn't talk now and god, that hand tracing the outline of his dick was fantastic, hard to not rock into, so he reached down and let his hands curl over John's ass. 

John moaned softly against him and instead of pushing in taking turned his attention to his neck, and kissed him there, unerringly finding sensitive spots. 

It was unreal, unexpected, that John was doing that, that he was fooling around before going for the target. Maybe foreplay for normal people went that way, a lot more feeling and touching, kissing. Rodney could learn to like that. 

Because it felt good. It felt more than good and he liked the kissing along the neck as if he was wanting to do that for him. He liked the smooth touch of his fingers drifting to skitter along the skin of his abdomen. He wanted more of the caress over his cock, harder and with more intent. 

And not through fabric. "Oh, fuck." That was a whine, and he was pretty sure that when people were seducing other people, they didn't whine. But Rodney, Rodney knew he was going to whine, because Jesus, that was intense, and he wasn't sure if he was doing the right things back or not. "Okay, you're not a cut to the chase guy..." 

John chuckled against his neck. "Did you want me to be?" he murmured against his skin. "I can be if you want..." 

For all his words, John didn't pick up his pace at all. 

"Not sure. I, h...." Fuck, he didn't usually *talk* during sex, either, and if he didn't focus he was going to fall to pieces on John in ways that John never would've seen coming. "Hhnn, how's the floor seem to you?" 

"Conveniently close," John replied and leaned back, lowering himself to his knees . "You can either stay as you are or come join me. Either way you won't regret it." 

And it wasn't about seduction as much as it was about what would keep him together. Standing up would help, help him reign it in. Not that he needed to reign it in for sure, no, but it was something for Rodney to consider as he shifted, sliding down with his back against his desk to join John. "Edge of the desk was killing me." 

"Let's see if we can distract you a little more..." John replied and leaned in closer, kissing him again. "Do you want me Rodney? You come on to me, but do you want me?" 

"Yeah. You're, you're gorgeous and beautiful, and amazing, and please don't make me talk, I'm not very good at this and I'd rather kiss you." And he did, pressing close. Kneeling allowed for closer contact, which Rodney hadn't really thought about. He could still press close to John, mouth against mouth and dick against dick. 

There was no talking then, but somewhere in the next few minutes John managed to undo his pants and slip a warm hand down to tease him even as he kissed. 

His dick was already hard when John touched him, already ready for it. Rodney leaned in against John's hand, leaned into the kisses with a desperate strained sigh. He should have been moving, but he had his fingers on John's ass, squeezing and feeling the muscle. 

"I wanna suck you off..." John murmured as he kissed him over and over as if he was picking up on the incredible tension he was experiencing. He was pushing against him with each squeeze of his ass. 

"Do it." His voice barely slipped out in a whisper as he gave John one more squeeze. "Please, god, your mouth is, is..." 

Fantastic, incredible, some other word that abandoned him at the point where John's fingers reached around his cock and pulled it out, bending down so that artfully scruffy hair was practically in his lap, and oh, god, he didn't waste time. He could feel John's lips close around him. 

Just like that. If there hadn't been a desk just behind him, Rodney was sure he might have tipped backwards. No question that John knew what he was doing, no, no question at all, because fuck, no slide of teeth, just lips around him and heat, and the press of John's tongue against the underside. 

It was strange to be feeling this good without some associated pain or humiliation. He usually only got to feel like that when he wasn't Rodney McKay soon to be Doctor Rodney McKay. John knew exactly what he was doing if his intention was to drive him mad. But it was a good feeling that resonated through his body, no pain twisted up in it like he expected. It was just sex, if there could be just sex, and when John edged closer, when he reached his hand down to feel Rodney's balls, he couldn't help but whine. 

That made John stop, and he peered up at him as if concerned he had done something wrong, just holding him gently in his hand until he indicated things were okay. 

"Don't stop." Rodney shifted, pressed against John's hand. It took thought to clear his head, thought to concentrate. "Don't stop." 

That was signal enough to get John moving and touching, and gently rolling and squeezing his balls in his hand. It was as if he thought he was fragile or something, which was just ridiculous considering everything he had dealt with. Fuck, every touch was electric in the *good* way. 

He just needed to control himself, not *be* himself, which was sort of hilarious and sort of not, and he could think about it later because John was putting his lips back on Rodney's dick, slurping at the head. 

He never remembered Kolya doing anything like that. He was usually so desperate he came at a touch. Or maybe it was just different, and wonderful and the sensations were making him pant , trying to hold it together while John seem determined to suck his brain out through his cock. 

He didn't know what to do, didn't know his role in it, and was left hanging onto John, left with his fingers curled on John's shoulders, roaming restlessly. There was a texture of his shirt, his skin, warm and a little tacky to the touch, smooth until he reached to the front of John and touched chest hair. 

It was something different, and the soft jangle of dog tags tangling in investigating fingers. It was all warmth, and he wanted to move with John's mouth or do something and that wasn't what he was used to. He was used to waiting, to punishments for not reacting properly. 

He was supposed to whine and make noise, and John just stared at him when he did that, so he wasn't, wasn't going to, but there was a tantalizing rub of stubble against his skin, the upper inside of his thigh, and he couldn't help but exhale in a whine, because fuck, that was the edge it needed, so good, and he was so close. 

He must've given some sort of signal because John was suddenly moving in earnest, a little roughly to bring him to climax as if he couldn't wait any longer either. Yeah, this was it, it was possibly his first sexual experience without anything fucked up going on behind it. 

Just John, with dogtags on, and wild hair, and a faint five o clock shadow, and them both on the floor, but nothing hurt and there were no demands except from mouth on his dick, pulling back and sucking, god, he was going to come right down John's throat, no pain, no, no... 

The noise he made was more from the shock of orgasm free of any conditions than the feeling, though it felt more than just good. It felt wonderful. 

But following on hard from his climax came surges of fear and anxiety. He wasn't meant to feel that way. It wasn't *right*. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a reward, not something by itself. He was supposed to have *given* first, or been taken of, but it was very much a reward, and what John had done wasn't. "Oh, fuck." He needed to calm, concentrate, and breathe. 

John shifted back, initially smiling, looking pleased with himself and then losing his smile rapidly as he looked at him. "Rodney?" He fumbled for the jammer and clicked it on. "Rodney? Shit... you look like I've scared the crap out of you." 

"I am so fucked up," Rodney mumbled. "Oh, god. Just turn it back on. I'm okay. I'll, I'm okay." 

John didn't though, not just then. Instead he moved to pull him into a comforting hold. "Easy there, easy. 'm sorry, I thought I was making it easy for you.". 

"You're not!" He snapped it, but it was barely a whisper because John was close, blanketing over him, so it was like he was dressed again. John was warm, and his hands were on Rodney's back, patting at him like he was fragile. "This, it's not easy, I've, he trained me into all of these reactions and actions and I can't just..." 

"...turn them off. I get it. I should've asked that before we started." John murmured. "It's okay Rodney. I get it... just a bit late, but I get it." 

"That's good, because I'm not sure I get it. One of us should get it." Rodney shifted, stretching his left leg out before he tucked his chin down briefly against John's shoulder. Just a moment. A little silence wouldn't be the end of them. John's aftershave was vaguely vanilla-scented, some note in it that he couldn't place. "It was, it was really good, though. I'm just not used to, uh, no strings attached." 

"There seriously isn't," John replied softly. "I know I'm probably not someone you want to be doing this with, but I was just thinking to make things easier for you. It's okay, I'm not going to fish for compliments. I enjoyed it, too." 

"It was good." Great. Fantastic, and if that was what *normal* sex was like, Rodney could learn to like it. "Let me return the favor and then we're really going to go out somewhere. Food. I'm going to be punished for it, we might as well." 

"Anything you want Rodney. Steak dinner, the works," John replied and unclicked the jammer, and kissing him and pulling away as if the silence had been caused by more lazy kissing. 

"Well, that was fun..." he drawled. 

It took Rodney longer than it should have to shift back into the 'game' they were up to, and he leaned in, letting his mouth linger against John's lips. Faint friction, the drag of soft skin against his mouth. Harmless, he reiterated mentally. John was harmless to him. "Let me return the favor, John." 

"I'm not going to argue with that sort of an offer..." John replied in that low relaxed voice of his and Rodney had the sudden urge to see if he could get him to react in anything apart from a laid back manner. As he moved down, more confident in the familiar role, he smiled. If anyone could do it, it would be him.

* * *

He'd had some pretty shitty missions in his life. Usually they were just gritty, dirty, but there was the odd one where he had to eliminate someone who probably shouldn't have to die, yeah, and that sucked. 

What sucked, too, was getting in too deep. There was always a chance that Rodney was a Matahari, sure, but he didn't think so. The guy was too much of a conflicted mess to be doing anything other than playing out his part of things honestly. 

He wasn't meant to be feeling anything. He was meant to be doing his job, and he was. Every damn night he was out there eliminating another bit of Kolya's secure web of support. By the time they reached Rodney's defense, he was going to be able to snatch him right out of there with no pursuers, ambushers or anything to follow them and Kolya would only *then* realize that his back up plans had failed. 

Not that it was easy. Some of his hunting missions had been damn close calls, those that went to hand to hand. Some he snarled up with the police, some he took out direct and when he was waiting, he worked on his mock thesis in his head. 

And somehow this faking of a passionate affair was more real than life or death in the moonlight battling criminals and mercs. 

It was harder, too, in a lot of ways that John wasn't used to. Because he knew that every time he mentioned food, Rodney got punished, and every blowjob was some mental puzzle for him to work out. After that first exchange, he'd taken Rodney out for Italian, and Rodney had gone for pasta with a cream-sauce, and coffee and cake. The guy had looked pretty green around the gills by the time they'd headed back to the university, but John wasn't sure if it was because he'd eaten too much or he was nervous about going home. 

But he *trusted* John would make it all right. 

He couldn't fuck this up. Not like he had for some other missions. There was Beckett who had apparently clawed himself back from death because he had Rodney to come back for and the least he could do after all this was get them together. Whenever Carson woke up. Lorne kept telling him, ëany day now' and he really wished it would be. 

Right now though, he'd had days of kissing, fantastic blowjobs, handjobs and pretty much everything short of the actual act of penetration. After that first time, he'd become accustomed to letting Rodney lead in the way he was most comfortable. He thought he'd killed him before, after that reaction. 

It wasn't that John was *that* arrogant about his sexual prowess, but he knew what was doing -- which had made the panicked, heart-attack look on McKay's face so scary, because there was no logical way that a blowjob had caused that kind of reaction. Except, that it had, all because he didn't do something probably sick to Rodney *before* he sucked him off. 

That disturbed John in a way that alien-snake infested brains didn't. He wanted Kolya more than arrested. He wanted him dead and that meant he was getting too damn personal. Although that seemed a stupid thing to be saying considering he was sat up on Rodney's desk just then, with Rodney sitting in his chair between his legs. 

It was all in the technique, John decided as he threaded his fingers through Rodney's hair. Rodney moved a *lot*, bobbed up and down, sucked and licked -- slow or fast, however John seemed to signal he liked it best. He'd paid whores whose work couldn't stand up to what Rodney was doing, the sly touches of his broad hands over John's balls, and thighs. There was a time when an office with no windows was apparently a godsend. 

All he could've done with was some sound proofing because when Rodney did that to him, he wanted to yell, or shout or make incoherent obscene noises of some description. But though people really didn't come down here, that sort of sound might just lure them in. 

"Fuck, Rodney..." 

Rodney pulled back, stopped to a halt, so he could smile up at John, expression caught up in the moment as much as his body seemed to be. "Maybe some other time." And then he bent back to his work, tracing his tongue along the underside of John's dick. 

Yeah, he was much more relaxed when he was steering things, though John knew he couldn't do the sort of thing Kolya would do to him. 

He exhaled loudly, trying not to let himself spin into the dizzying freefall that came on when he thought of Rodney. It wasn't just when they did this, it was blue eyes looking at him, hopeless but trusting. 

And willing to try, and probably underneath it all, still planning to blow his brains out if it went to hell. He didn't understand that, tried to understand it, but John's idea of a hard life was not the same as Rodney's experiences. He still wasn't even sure what Rodney's experiences were, other than cruelty. He'd bet it was imaginative in a bad way -- general cruelty didn't quite bring someone like McKay about. 

It was something planned, indoctrinated. The military knew about cruelty. Even education had its moments if your father didn't believe in 'whipping boys' and set an impossible grade dependent target complete with penalties if his averages slipped. But that wasn't like this... breaking of a person and remolding them. 

Rodney didn't know what was him and what was Kolya anymore, from the way he talked sometimes, but John was pretty sure that the guy who glowed and babbled physics like it was a piece of cake, that was McKay. That was all Rodney, a part of him that Kolya hadn't touched. 

There was a slurp noise, quiet, and Rodney's tongue wiggled against John's piss-slit, one hand stroking behind his mouth, lightly fisting John's length. Kolya had touched everything else about him. 

He might have been enjoying it, but it said a lot about how far he had fallen that he would give up this expert attention for the chance to see that McKay flourish. Actually, if he pulled that off, that's what Rodney would be doing. John found himself arching back instinctively, moving his hips as he groaned. 

Rodney hummed against the head of his dick, and leaned in closer, fingers sliding back, pressing against the under curve of his ass. John could only fantasize what that felt like, how Rodney would fuck him or the other way around, even if he knew that if he asked, Rodney would say yes. It wasn't really his right to push for it. 

Especially when he knew that was something that had been forbidden by Kolya and it would be Rodney that would suffer, not him. He wasn't into sadism; sometimes a bit of mild kink, why the hell not but... not genuinely hurting someone.

He had a gentle rhythm now, flexing and clenching muscles. "Oh god Rodney... fuck..." 

He would feel good. He wondered if Rodney had ever fucked anyone at all. Perhaps he'd missed out on all of that. 

That was a shame. He'd *seen* Kolya, a big towering man with a wicked facial expression, passing as a witty history teacher on the campus. It was kind of hard to imagine Rodney gaining the upper hand on the guy. Russian Black Ops, and even retired, one with significant resources to call on. But it didn't mean Rodney wasn't creative, no, because John could feel one finger pressing dry against his asshole while Rodney sucked hard. 

In some bizarre way that made his muscles in his legs twitch eagerly, and yeah, he'd happily take Rodney as a first time top with him. He was so damn good at anything he concentrated on he couldn't imagine him getting it wrong. Especially when he could make him feel like that. The burn of a finger there, the softness and warmth of his mouth. He was going to be coming any time now 

He moaned and arched again. "Rodney, Rod... Rodney, gonna..." He had to gulp in air before he finally gave in. It wasn't much of a warning, but it was a warning none the less and he couldn't hold back any longer. 

With a hoarse cry, he climaxed, dizzied with the release. And Rodney swallowed it down, finger still teasing inside of him, still sucking, but slower, lighter, when he started to pull back. 

"That... that was great Rodney," John said, and that finger made him ache hopefully wanting more from the other man than this. Lurid mental images of those brief thoughts of Rodney topping solidified into proper fantasies. "Really, really great." 

"Yeah?" Rodney pulled back, pressed a kiss against the inside of John's thigh. He started to pull the finger out, and John decided he probably shouldn't push himself back onto it. 

"You are... fantastic," John replied genuinely, and no acting was needed for that. "I never knew there were so many different ways to do this. It just makes me want you more." 

It wasn't lies, but Rodney probably didn't know that. 

He probably thought it was all a game, probably thought that John was just playing with him, just being nice to him. and it wasn't that John wasn't capable of that level of deception, because it was a lot easier than it probably seemed to Rodney. But it wasn't what he was *doing*, that wasn't the game he was caught up in. Rodney was too... too eager, too open, to do that to him. "I aim to please." 

"And so do I." John smoothed over Rodney's hair gently and tucked himself away, back in his pants. "You deserve something for such talent. Anything you want..." 

Rodney shifted a little, and laid his cheek against the fabric of John's pants, against his knee. "Anything I want, huh? Give me a minute to think about that..." 

"Take all the time you want," John replied. He continued stroking him because that seemed to settle Rodney somehow. Not long now. Not long and they would be out of here and Rodney would probably be in therapy, but also seeing the vision he had created out of pure supposition and his own mind come to life. His impossible dreams a reality. 

He wanted to give Rodney that. Wanted to give him that chance, wanted to see him being happy, and out there, living a life. Working for the SGC, yeah, which would cut down on the level of normal he'd get in his life, but at least everything would be crazy in okay ways. "I think I could just sit here, like this..." 

"If that's what you want." And John was surprised to find he really was okay with that being a plan. If him paying Rodney too much physical attention made Rodney uncomfortable then this was just fine. 

Even so, logically he should be pushing boundaries at some point. "Though some time I'd like to get to know you even better. When you're ready." 

John meant that, as well. Rodney's eyes were half closed, and he sighed quietly, still resting there with his cheek against John's knee. "Yeah. I'll have to invite you over sometime. But this is nice..." 

"Not going to argue with that as I'm the one whose just seen stars," John replied, his fingers tracing over his other cheek gently. He had no idea how someone could be so fragile and strong at the same time. 

The things Rodney casually mentioned as happening to him, it was amazing that he even functioned in the brash way he did. But then there were quiet moments, where Rodney seemed to forget that he was supposed to be seducing John, where it all slipped away. 

God help him, he was too selfish to not revel in those moments and just *pretend* that for a moment it was real. Just for quiet moments like this, that they really were getting together and there was someone out there who wanted him. It was a stupid self-deception, but he was out here on his own, without back-up, and sometimes this sort of life got damn lonely. 

It would make it a little easier when later in the day he went in search of the next guy who needed to be taken care of from Kolya's network of support. He could remember that moment, the quiet ease that Rodney rested there until he finally started to move again, shuffling closer to John, fingers curling to rest at the sides of John's hips." 

"We could go get something?" he suggested in a low voice into the comfortable silence. "You want to?" 

"Yeah." Rodney's voice was quiet, and he didn't move, but yeah. Rodney probably didn't want sex, was the gist of it. He'd been moving stiffly again, and he could probably benefit from John sharing another painkiller with him. 

"Okay. Let's go." John said, and made some noise to cover for them before pressing the jammer button. "You okay Rodney? Here..." He should've given him these straight off, but he hadn't gotten used to thinking like that. He passed over a couple of the painkillers he'd had from the hospital. He'd had a use a few himself, recently, but he had enough. "You look like you need it." 

"Thanks." Rodney palmed them, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He took his pills dry, usually, and now seemed to be no different. "I'm sort of tired." 

"I gathered that. Sorry, should've given you those when I got here. Rough night with Kolya?"John asked. 

"He's..." Rodney wasn't standing up yet, still, and he pressed the side of his head a little harder against John's knee. "He hasn't been happy." 

"Not much longer Rodney, I promise," John replied in a low voice. "How long is it to your defense? I swear we'll be done for that." 

"Eight days. It's just eight days. That's... that's not long at all." 

"You can make it that long," John encouraged. "I know you can. I swear, as soon as we're ready, we'll be out of here. I've been working on it." 

"Okay." Rodney moved, fingers shifting to land on either side of the table, when he pushed himself up standing. "Okay. I can make it. It's just eight more days." 

John made it a private vow to make it less time than that if he could because if anyone deserved it, it would be Rodney. "C'mon, let's go out to lunch. We can carry on our trip through the menu at the restaurant that you like so much."

* * *

There was a soft whine in the air when Acastus pushed his hips forwards, a broke noise that made his breath catch. It was really exquisite, to take someone apart to that level, to remold who and what they were, to take a stubborn young man and turn them into a whimpering puppy who begged for the pleasure of Acastus' dick up his ass. Even in the midst of rebellion, even while deep in defiance of him, Rodney still bent like a green tree in the wind to that act. His back muscles were tight, tense, where they pressed against Acastus's chest, stomach muscles shivering with the effort to stay on his toes, to keep balanced while Acastus thrust. He kept a hand on Rodney's concave stomach, heel of his palm pressed against the sweet edge of his hip bone. He wouldn't touch Rodney's dick, though -- he wanted Rodney wanton, wanted him to look like the slutty puppy he was when Acastus dragged his white knight into the room in chains. Just reddened, bruised and flushed with pleasure, and maybe Sheppard would understand for a few minutes that Rodney was no man who needed to be rescued. He deserved the way Acastus treated him, because without that kind of control, he'd give it up for anyone at all. 

It would be Acastus' pleasure to break whatever illusions Sheppard had. 

He was expecting Sheppard to arrive shortly. They must have thought him an idiot to play their game when he was perfectly capable of setting his own that he could not lose. He knew they were setting their timeframe to that of Rodney's defense, thinking that he would do nothing before then.

Well, that was only true if he had no means of forcing Rodney to complete his defense regardless of the state he was in. So he arranged his move to take place prior to the defense date, and it really was ridiculously easy. 

Sheppard was not the type of man to leave someone behind, he could find out that much in his military record. A threat to Rodney and he would deliver himself to the doorstep, all the time believing that he would be able to outsmart Acastus, get free. 

After he had stripped Sheppard naked, that might be a little tricky, which was a thought that made him smile. He estimated that Sheppard would've found the note in Rodney's office by now, with the promise that Rodney's physical peril would increase the longer he took to get there. He rarely made threats he did not mean. 

And it was a threat that Acastus meant. He had plans for Rodney, past bringing him close, past making him look like the needy puppy he was. Rodney had been enjoying his time with Sheppard, and he wanted to taint that, take that from Rodney and Sheppard, both, before he was done with them. 

"Make all the noise you want, puppy. You like the feel of me, don't you?" He gave a hard thrust, enough to make Rodney almost lose his footing again. He was beautiful suspended that way, arms stretched up over his head, barely touching the ground. 

He wanted Rodney to see his supposed rescuer broken before he died. And he would try and mould Sheppard, but if he turned out to be too brittle then he would make sure that Rodney saw Sheppard die in such a way to leave him with no hope. But first he would torture him for information, something he used to relish. None had ever beaten him and he could not see that a full of himself Major would be any different. 

And should they escape, they would die all the same because he always had a contingency plan out there. One signal and his prearranged measures would take them down. He had everything under control. 

It was a beautiful plan. 

Acastus leaned into Rodney, pressed his face against Rodney's hair, and pressed hard on his stomach to keep him still for a few more grinding thrusts, almost there. He wanted his puppy already dirty when Sheppard undoubtedly let himself in. 

A beeping nose alerted him and it made him jolt with an extra surge of adrenalin and climax that much swifter. Sheppard was here and trying to gain entry through one of the back windows. How... terribly predictable. 

Acastus smiled even as he pulled away roughly. That disobedience would cost him. 

Sheppard should have tried knocking. 

Acastus wasn't in any rush, though. He tucked his dick away, zipped his pants up, and refastened his belt, before bending over to pick up a toy from the floor. It was simple, just a vibrating dildo, just something to stick in Rodney while he walked away to deal with his friend. "Be a good puppy." 

The gasping whine Rodney gave as he headed out the door, picking up his gun and his taser which he dialed to an acceptable level, was satisfactory enough. He couldn't wait to see Sheppard's reaction to his 'victim'. 

It was easy enough to pad down toward the impromptu breaking and entering. He was quiet, Acastus would give him that. If he didn't have his own home rigged so he knew everything that went on, then perhaps it might've worked. 

But he was already ready for unauthorized entry, and exits, even if Rodney had never tested the windows or tried to make an escape. Just in case. A person couldn't breathe in the wrong place and not be noticed in his own domain. 

The reason for Just in Case was setting his feet lightly down on the inside of the laundry room, to the accompaniment of Waffle's curious wuffs. 

"I think that is quite far enough Major Sheppard, don't you?" he said knowing he sounded amused. He was, the whole thing amused him. Rodney thinking he could leave him, this upstart thinking he could charge to the rescue. He'd been doing his job longer than Sheppard had ever been alive."Raise your hands please where I can see them." 

Waffle really was hopeless as a guard dog. 

The best part was that the man had the audacity to look surprised to see Acastus there, lips parted even as he started to raise his hands, still holding the crowbar he'd used to get in. 

"Well, I was kinda hoping to get a bit further than this," the man drawled as he recovered his composure and it was the same voice he had listened to gasping and groaning as Rodney served him under his order. "You know, to the point of getting Rodney away from you." 

"He will not be leaving me without my permission." Acastus lifted his gun, gesturing casually with the muzzle, taser held comfortably in his other hand. "Put down the crowbar, and disarm yourself. If I find any weapons on your person, you will regret it." 

The other man very carefully put the crowbar down on the table, then reached carefully to loosen the holster strap that let his gun fall to the ground, and finally bent over to remove a knife strapped to his leg. 

"You don't want to kill him," Sheppard said even as he put that weapon down. "You've put too much effort into him." 

"He's been with me for nearly ten years. He's had a long, good life for a puppy, longer than any of mine. But in his age..." Acastus gestured for Sheppard to step away from his weapons. "He's become defiant. He's starting to show his age. I miss having a young puppy." 

"I take it that means I'm not next on your list," the man said with infuriating calm. "Considering I'm about the same age." 

He stepped away though, narrowing his eyes a little as he weighed options. It gave him a thrill to be dealing with someone so *dangerous*. That was a spice he had missed for a long time. 

"I'm not adverse to... adopting and training an old puppy. We'll just have to see, won't we?" So calm. Acastus eyed the man's body, looking for any signs of body armor that could impede the taser. 

Some over the chest area, so when he made his inevitable attempt to rush him he'd shoot him in the leg. On the setting he had it probably wouldn't knock him out for more than a couple of minutes or so if that. 

"Why don't you just let Rodney go? You don't want him any more... you could just let him go." Sheppard tried again moving in the direction indicated a little too docilely. Yes, he was planning something. 

He'd try to rush him, it was obvious, and Acastus decided to wait for it. "I think when I show you him, you'll understand why I can't let him go." 

Sheppard didn't answer then, but walked toward where he had Rodney. He was anticipating the effect the sight would make on him, but as they opened the door, where he expected Sheppard to pause in shock at the sight of his rescue writhing like the slut he was, it was then Sheppard acted. Clever. He had tried to use his own anticipation against him, and it came closer than he liked to working. 

But he still had the upper hand, and a taser that he fired at the inside of the man's thigh, dropping him to the ground with the first long jolt. 

He went down hard and Acastus decided he would use those moments to ensure he was thoroughly stripped of all protection and clothing. He could not hide anything if he were naked. 

Efficiently, and ignoring Rodney, he stripped the prone body. It was awkward but he looked with appreciation at the long hard muscled lines of his body that he uncovered. If he had anything secreted in his clothes they would be well enough away from him. There were some bandages which initially he scorned as pathetic attempts to conceal items, which seems proven when lock picks dropped out of the wrapping around John's thigh. But underneath each of them was a genuine injury. It seemed he had been playing rough recently. The medical leave story apparently had some genuine basis. 

Never the less, he uncovered all the dressings from his legs, his wrist and the one on his side, scanning over them to be on the safe side. They would be nothing to what he was going to do. 

He'd make Sheppard a poor mimicry of Rodney, whose whines were starting to reach a frantic point. Best to ignore him for a while, while he pulled the chains out from underneath of the bed to secure Sheppard to the mattress. 

It just left the question of face up, or face down. Possibly face down, with his head at the end of the bed. That way if he lifted his head, he'd see Rodney. 

And of course Rodney could see him. 

He was expert at this, so he had comfortably enough time to get the man secure before he started to rouse again. He was very fine looking, especially like that. 

"...Fuck," he heard him mumble. 

"In time. You have a beautiful, tight-looking ass. Do you get fucked often?" He stayed close to the man, so he could watch his face when he realized the predicament he was in. 

Sheppard just raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't kiss and tell," he said in a rough voice. "You're one sick bastard you know that?" 

"So I have heard." He moved, walked towards Rodney to make sure Sheppard was looking at the other man squirming, shifting desperately as if he could get away from the toy Acastus had out in his ass. Or, towards it. 

Maybe the major was one of those who got turned on by this sort of thing. It could be taught of course, but occasionally he came across a natural. Fleetingly he regretted the gap between them. Making Rodney come all over his other captive would've been amusing but he could save that for later. 

"This is who you've come to rescue Major, this... slut." 

Sheppard didn't look impressed, outraged or anything but angry. 

"If I hadn't laid out boundaries for him, you could have had him bent over his desk that first meeting the two of you had. It's all he's good for. Look at him..." Acastus reached down, curled his fingers around Rodney's hard, jutting cock. "And tell me if you could ever let a slut this eager for it free?" 

"Oh, so all this has been for his benefit?" Sheppard replied, and he was surreptitiously testing, the bonds connecting him to the bed. "You keep telling yourself that. You know damn well what you've done to him." 

"I've paid his way in life, and in return, he does what came so very naturally to him. You can come now, puppy." 

He was gratified to see that the presence of his 'rescuer' did nothing to deter the obedience of Rodney, as he climaxed in his hand with a shuddering release. 

He saw Sheppard turn away from that. 

That was gratifying, too. Yes. It probably turned the man's stomach, for all of his kind-hearted bluster. He stroked until Rodney was empty, then reached back to pull the dildo out, for the moment. "So tell me, when were you last fucked, Sheppard?" 

"You know, I don't think I'm going to answer that," the major replied and he was entirely too cocky for someone stripped naked and chained to his bed. 

"Then I'm left to assume that it was last night. Perhaps this morning? And that your ass will not require the nicety of lubrication. I hope that you are STD free, because you and my puppy will be sharing a few toys until I decide what is best to do with you." He left the simple dildo on a side table, and pulled the toy box out from under the bed. Sheppard's ass could do with a few electric shocks to bring the defiance out of him. 

"Come on, don't even pretend there's a better option available Kolya," Sheppard replied. "You'll do whatever the hell you want anyway." 

"You'd be surprised to learn that there is always a better option. Behavior is rewarded -- and through much of his life, my puppy has behaved better than any other I have had. His life has been full of ease and generally free of physical discomforts. But you tempted him, and Doctor Beckett tempted him, and now he had stopped being obedient." While he talked, he plugged in the power source, quickly running the leads and connecting the toy. He had to use a little lubrication, just to make the shocks better felt for the man. 

Even so, he did have a serious point to focus on. He did want information from him so this wasn't going to be about inciting pleasure as such. More about reinforcing how helpless he was, how little control he had. 

"Yeah, bullshit," Sheppard replied. "What you gave him was nothing in compared to what he should've had. He's a fucking genius, he should have the pick of anywhere and you've been taking that away from him. You've taken everything away from him and given him crumbs in return. That's not how being a Patron is meant to be, unless you're a sadistic bastard whose own country turned on him because you killed too many of your proteges." 

So, that was one thing he knew. Unasked for, completely volunteered. Acastus sat beside John on the bed, and took his time slicking his fingers, so he could delve them into that pert, small ass. "Keep talking. I'm listening." 

"You're a killer, Kolya. A thug and a murderer. That's all you'll ever be, not some delusion you've got going on in your own head," Sheppard replied and it was hard to tell if he was genuinely letting this slip in anger or was saying it for some reason. 

"Does talking like that make you feel better about your failures, Sheppard?" He leaned over Sheppard's body, pressing two fingers against his asshole, sliding them in despite the resistance they met. 

Sheppard didn't answer or make a sound. Which was probably because he was trying to be macho about his treatment. Kolya smiled. This was positively pleasant compared to what else he was going to do. And perhaps the failures jibe had been a weak spot. 

"Do you see what I'm doing to him, puppy? This is one of the men you defied me for. You took food from his hands, and for what? Escape? Something that you'll never have." He thrust, shoved those two fingers in and out, stretching Sheppard roughly. 

Again, if Sheppard was wanting to make sound, he was muffling it. Acastus let his gaze roam over the man's body. A reasonable amount of old scars there, some fresher than others. Perhaps he had been tortured before. That should make things interesting. 

He looked to see what Rodney's reaction to seeing his "rescuer" so open and powerless. His expression pleased him. Rodney seemed heartbroken, mouth pulled down, eyes on Sheppard's face. He would grow more heartbroken the longer Acastus worked on Sheppard, and that was a betrayal in and of itself. He shoved a third finger into Sheppard's pert ass, feeling the heat and the tightness around his digits. "Who sent you?" 

"That... would be telling," Sheppard replied aiming for and missing a completely normal tone. 

Acastus knew it had to hurt, because from the feel of it, no one had fucked Sheppard for a long time. It was too much to hope that he had a virgin ass because if the US military was anything like the Russian military, Sheppard would've been lucky to stand upright in the mornings. 

But it had been a *very* long time ago, if they were much alike. "Then you're going to learn to tell. Who sent you? First the doctor, and now you -- I want to know." 

"Right now I want you to stop doing that but we don't always get what we want do we?" Sheppard said in an insulting tone. It irritated him, because it would be so easy to make him scream and here he had him playing up to him. 

Unacceptable. 

Perhaps he needed to break the man down completely before he could pry the words he wanted to hear out of his mouth. "Fine. Then we'll do this my way. But remember that you decided on this." 

"You keep deluding yourself Kolya... because that's something you appear pretty good at," Sheppard replied. "This is no one's choice but your own. Same applies to everything you've done to Rodney." 

"Your pedanticness is becoming annoying," Acastus decided. He pulled his fingers out of that tight ass, and stretched his asscheeks apart so he could position the probe, turned off for the moment. 

He was gratified to get some reaction from that at least. An exhalation of pain which made him smile a little. Wait until he actually *did* something to him. The man was infuriating and he wanted to break him, mark him, just get him responding the way he wanted rather than that ridiculous defiance. 

Break him down, then, and the questioning would have to wait. "I'll just turn this on, and see to Rodney for a bit. I told you that you should do as I said." He leaned to the side slightly, and cranked up the device. There was no sense at starting Sheppard's ass at a steady, slow twitch that he preferred to use to drive Rodney up a wall. No, Sheppard deserved to have hard muscle contractions that stung, around and against the conductive steel. 

It pleased him to see Sheppard jerk violently at the charge, and again when it pulsed. Yes, in a short while that would be excruciating. Exactly as he planned. 

Now for Rodney. 

Who'd been watching, face twisted in misery. He could take him again, or he could leave him as he was, shove a plug in him, and beat him the way he deserved to be beaten. 

"You know how painful that is don't you ?" he murmured in Rodney's ear. "It's a lot stronger than I usually use on you and he's feeling that because of what you did. And he'll feel more, because I am going to break him. Like I did you. And you are going to watch. Anything I do to you Rodney, I will do to him double or triple. You think about that... now you choose. Shall I fuck you or shall I whip you for your disobedience? You may speak to answer." 

Rodney stared at Sheppard, lips parted slightly, face a sheet of misery. He hated being whipped, and he probably wasn't very pleased with the idea of being fucked again, but given a choice, Acastus knew what he'd choose. "F... fuck me, sir." 

"I'm sure Major Sheppard will be ecstatic you have elected for me to rape him." Kolya replied. "Now, I hope you can induce yourself to get it up, because I'm going to fuck you until you come again, and all the time we're waiting for that to happen, he's going to be feeling that." 

It would take a while at least, and he wasn't sure he'd ever left Rodney that long on it. But, it was Sheppard's decision. 

Maybe he'd had Rodney hanging for too long, because he jerked as if startled by his pronouncement, and then uttered, "No, no, no, please, whip me instead, sir, I..." 

Kolya shook his head and tsked a little. "Rodney, Rodney... why should I change my mind?" 

Aside from the fact he could use a little more recovery time himself. But Rodney didn't need to know that. "As you have begged so politely... perhaps I will, but it strikes me that you choose something you hate more for the sake of him. I find that very disappointing. And I will be harsh... and if I am harsh with you, he will receive it twice over. Are you sure?" 

Rodney nodded, and his arm muscles strained, clenching and trying to pull himself up straighter, shifting his feet. "Yes, sir. I'm, I'm sure." 

"Very well," Kolya murmured as he reached for the medium bullwhip. He wanted Rodney to imagine every stroke and how much worse it was going to be for Sheppard. That was a nice refinement to the situation. Two at once were definitely amusing. He flex the whip in his hand and smiled. "Let us begin."

* * *

He just had to get through this, get them both through this. It was just pain, he had to keep telling himself that. He knew this would happen, the moment Kolya moved early. It's what he would've done, and he'd been prepared. He'd tried to get in unseen and Kolya had been ready for that. He'd had equipment, and Kolya had expected that. Kolya was black ops and he was pretty sure he had been more than just a commander because too many people had owed him favors. He'd sent the data-burst to O'Neill before effectively surrendering. Just in case. It was down to whether his last play was going to beat Kolya's preparation. 

He had a non-metallic lock pick actually in the wound on his wrist, butterfly stitches concealing it. If Kolya left for more than a few minutes, he could get it out and get free. But he had to last that long. And so did Rodney. 

Rodney hung limp, breathing hard, still trying to keep his full body weight off of his arms by stretching down to tiptoes. But the beating had given him momentum that he couldn't handle, and left the chains he was suspended by twisting lazily, a slow spin that showed John the mess that was Rodney's back. He'd only looked for a second before his own beating had started. 

Eventually, the guy had to go take a piss, or walk that brain damaged dog. And John would be ready. 

The question would be if he could stay conscious. This was no careful play, this was someone looking to inflict as much pain as possible. It seemed impossible that it was something flexible because the impact felt solid like a red hot metal rod every time it hit him. 

This would be the hitch in the plan, being able to function after this. He'd downed a dose of pain pills before he came in, but that was like spitting on a forest fire to put it out. He managed only grunts of sound to start with, but he showed no sign of stopping, to the point that he bloodied his lip and then ended up bellowing out a protest into the material he was lying on. 

It was when he was screaming into the sheets that Kolya finally stopped. His back was on fire, shuddering pain from shoulders to the small of his back, when John finally heard the heavy sound of the whip being dropped. He could hear, too, Kolya breathing hard. The bastard was probably going to whip it out and jerk off any minute now. 

There was too much fire to focus properly, and he was unsure if it was sweat or blood he could feel trickling. He wanted to be able to say something for the tape he had that was hopefully still running in the pile of clothes off to the side of them but he couldn't find speech just yet.

He felt the bed shift, and a sharp tug at the electric probe still in his ass, yanking it out. Compared to the whip, it had nearly been forgotten but it hurt like hell coming out, and he knew what was going to happen next. 

And from the sounds Rodney was making he knew too, and that it was as much a punishment for Rodney as it was for him. 

He was whimpering. Whimpering, pleading whines, shifting, toes on the ground trying to lean forwards, pulling at the suspension cuffs. Rodney wanted to stop it, John could see, but it wasn't like either of them were in a position to. 

"Shhh, Rodney, don't get yourself worked up. He'll enjoy it, won't you, Sheppard?" 

"I...am ... going to *kill* you..." John managed even as he felt Kolya move in over him, hand reaching to grip him by his burning shoulders. 

"Do you know how many of my students flippantly say the same thing?" But Sheppard had a feeling that Kolya only fucked with their GPAs, not their ass, not digging a knee in hard against a thigh for the fun of it before he reached down with his other hand to spread his ass open again. 

The probe had inflamed the tissue and he hissed through his teeth, and he had a feeling Kolya was not going to be using lube, not going to be taking any sort of consideration and.. 

Yeah, he might as well be using a stick with nails in it. 

Fuck. There was nothing to do but brace himself and try to not fight it, because at that point, he knew it was only going to make things worse. There was no making anything better, no way he could magically make himself receptive to what was going on. He could close his eyes, though, and not see Rodney's desperate struggles to try to help him while Kolya pushed his dick in. 

He leaned into the material and bellowed the instinctive protest. He could do this, he could get through this. He'd been captured before, he'd been through hell before. Not exactly like this, but close enough in different ways. This was nothing, he kept telling himself. Nothing compared to what Rodney must've been through all these years. Nothing compared to what he had to endure and would endure before Kolya killed him. Kolya was losing control with them, he could *feel* that. His plans were disintegrating as he glutted himself on pain and suffering, becoming drunk on the stimulus. Because he wasn't doing John slowly, he was doing it hard and rough as all hell, and fuck, he was going to be lucky to be able to walk. 

"You don't make... bargains with me Rodney... that would... imply... you were worth something." 

There was just a soft, protesting whine again, and he was glad he couldn't see Rodney's face or hear him over the pound of blood in his own ears. At least Kolya would be done with him soon, because he was jack hammering John's ass. 

He deliberately let himself drift, not quite allowing himself to pass out but seeming to, because it made muscles go limp and denied Kolya the satisfaction of a fight even as the man ripped his way to a climax and collapsed over his back. He held himself there in that space, hoping that Kolya might go now, get bored and go and he needed to work on being able to move. The moment they would get out of there. 

Had to. They *had* to get out, ASAP, or else, or else, Jesus, they were *going* to die, and John could take one round, or two or three, but a life like that? No, no, that was not in his plans. 

But Acastus did stand up, eventually, moving languidly, as if he was momentarily sated. 

John just hoped he thought he was out of it; he needed him to take the break before he really did pass out. Much more like that and it wouldn't be long. He just hoped that Kolya having done that to him, meant he was going to leave Rodney for now. 

The bed creaked when Kolya stood up, and he gave a short whistle. "Waffle! C'mere, boy. You've been good -- I think we could both use a walk." After he changed out of blood covered clothes, no doubt. But John could hear the click click of claws on the floor, coming towards them and then heading away when Kolya left.

* * *

He didn't know why they did it. 

He didn't know why Carson had done what he'd done, or why John was even there, or why they kept *trying* when it obviously wasn't worth it, when he wasn't worth it because there was going to be two smart men dead for no fucking reason at all and and... 

Rodney whined when he heard Kolya whistle for Waffle. God, he shouldn't have changed his mind, it was all his fault... 

"I will return shortly," Kolya said. "And we shall see if your Major is feeling more cooperative when he wakes. If not, you and I will have fun together until he does. " He saw him pick up the gun on the way out and then Waffle who was whining and looking confused at the smell of blood and a stranger in the house. 

Maybe if he was lucky, if they were lucky, it would drive Waffle to snapping at Acastus. He wasn't sure. But he whimpered, and lowered his head, trying to make himself rest. There was no getting out of the suspension cuffs, and his arms were already tingling, shoulders screaming pain at him, and his back... Whips were hell. 

He heard the door close and wondered aimlessly how long this reprieve would be. He couldn't bear seeing Acastus do that to John and he knew they weren't going to get out of here alive. Why had he even come? Just because Acastus has threatened him? That wasn't a reason. 

On the bed he saw John move. His back was a bloody mess, soaking the bedclothes around him. Acastus had not been joking about that. He'd made John suffer, beaten him harder than he had Rodney. Punishing them both, because Rodney couldn't stop it, couldn't stop any of it. He wasn't meant to have friends or people rescuing him, and if they hadn't gotten involved, he would have been, he would have been okay. And they would have been okay. So it didn't make sense... 

"Fuck." John was trying to haul himself up onto his elbows pulling hard at the handcuffs that Acastus had used to chain him to the bed. "Rodney?" He sounded unsteady and his voice was rough, but he was talking. 

"Hhhuh?" It was hard to find his voice, and no matter how bad things were just then, he didn't want Acastus to catch him talking without permission. 

"How... shit... how're you doing there? Able to move at all?" He seemed to be biting at his wrist as if that was going to work. He couldn't chew off a handcuff. 

It was something Rodney almost expected, though. Maybe he was going to chew off his own wrist, which was probably ingenious of him, because Sheppard seemed like the kind of guy who'd rather be handless than dead. "Huh, yeah. I'm... still here." 

"Great...". More mumbled swearing and John appeared to be contorting himself to get a better angle. "Just...give me a moment here. How long does he usually take on the walks?" 

"Depends on his mood." Rodney swallowed, and closed his eyes, because John was biting as his own skin. Fuck. "At least 15 minutes." 

"15...okay." And god, like there wasn't enough blood already, John was biting himself, trying to chew his *hand* off or something and he couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but the thought of it made him sick. 

He looked away for a couple of minutes, wondering if there was something wrong with him that he had never had the urge to do something like that to get free. 

The next thing he heard was the clatter of something metallic against the bed frame. 

It made his eyes open, before he could snap them shut with the fear that John *had* gnawed his arm off. Except, there was blood on his wrist, his fingers, but they were all attached, and John was leaning, fingers pressed against the lock against his other wrist. 

He had a hand free. 

How the hell... But that was... He'd been naked, what was he picking a lock with? His chest hair or something? 

"I'll be with you... fuck, with you in a moment. Just, we're going to have to run for it. And moving is not going to be a good thing," John said as he apparently picked the other handcuff lock and twisted painfully to get to his ankles. 

Oh god. Oh god. He was actually doing it, though. He didn't know where the lock pick had come from, and John had been chewing at his wrist, so maybe it was in his skin? Which was something that Acastus would think of, but Rodney was going to stay calm and watch and be ready, because if they could just get away... 

One ankle then the other and John was free, and looking white and shaky as he pushed himself off the bed. " Not metal pick. Kolya has scanners for metal. This is kinda bone synthetic thing. Put it in the cut on my wrist, put butterfly stitches over. Even if he opened it up it would've looked like a glimpse of bone." 

The words were tumbling out as he lurched over to Rodney to release the suspension cuffs. "If we run, no one's coming after us and no back up to call in. Got that covered in time. Except him, okay?" 

"Okay." The locks on Rodney's cuffs were substantially easier to pick, because the cuffs were hard, constricted Rodney's hands into place like that carpal tunnel brace one of his TAs had used to use. He tried to hold still for John to make it easier. 

"Should've, should've cleared them out quicker, but..." John grimaced as one side came free. "Steady." 

He was still on his toes, and it was hard to keep balanced. Rodney struggled to not jerk on the arm that was still held over his head. If John could get free, he could not-pull his arm out of its socket, it was just that fucking simple. "Okay." 

And John was there positioning himself so he'd have someone to lean on, and... shit, catch him when the second cuff came free. "Gotcha. How're we doing for time?" 

"We need to get out of here." He was leaning into John too hard, but his knees weren't listening to him, and he really really needed them to try listening, because he needed to stand and run. "Maybe we can, can flag down a cop car?" Two naked bloody men running full tilt might flag one down for them. 

"Calling them would be an idea," John replied grimacing. "You okay to move? We gotta go." 

"I'm okay to move." He reached it, yes, but he wasn't used to talking in the house, wasn't used to having to plan an escape, or used to standing up after a beating like that and so long hanging in suspension. 

"Right." It didn't seem that John was going to go without his clothes after all, or at least his pants, which he grabbed and slipped on hastily. "Nearest phone?" 

It made Rodney wonder if he should get dressed, but his clothes were downstairs, and Kolya had the key to the cupboard and it really wasn't worth... trying for. Mentioning. Rodney jerked his head out to the hallway. "His study. Just across the hall." 

John was moving awkwardly as if every movement was an act of will. "Right, we'll call the police now. Couldn't before, he would've killed you straight off." 

He headed over the other room and froze as there was a sound downstairs of a door slamming. "Fuck." 

"*Now*," Rodney hissed at John, gesturing for him to dial. He was better, faster, sounded more authoritative than Rodney, and he needed to dial. He stayed in the hallway, hoping shock that he'd escaped would stun Kolya out of action. 

John shook his head. "You go, in there. I'll... take him down. He'll go to the room first. Go, move." He didn't even wait for a response, he just moved back towards the room where they had been left, expecting Rodney to go and dial. 

He could hear Waffle skittering around restlessly as the short walk had done nothing to burn off his energy. Usually, he played with Rodney if he was still bouncy. They rolled and they wrestled and they played tug of war, and fetch, and, and fuck, Rodney made himself move, made himself enter the study and pick up the phone, hitting 911 quickly. 

Waffle bounced up the stairs to come look for him, followed by Kolya's heavier tread. He was whistling, sounding cheerful. Waffle pushed his way into the study, his tail wagging hopefully. He had to stop him going out, Kolya would just assume he had gone into the other room looking for him. 

Waffle hruffed at him, happy to see him moving around. 

So, Rodney moved to press up against the wall, out of sight while the phone rang and rang and rang... 

~"911, what is your emergency?"~ 

He heard Acastus enter the other room, and then almost immediately the thump of someone hitting the door and a shout - difficult to tell if it was John or Acastus but then there were more crashing noises. 

"H, hello, I live on 915 Azure drive. My Patron is trying to kill me. He's kidnapped a friend of mine, he's, he's tortured us and they're in the other room fighting. We were trying to escape when he came back in the house, you have to send help..." 

"Hold on sir. Do you need an ambulance?" He lost track of what she was saying as there was a roar of pain and then a smashing sound as if something had been thrown and gone through the window, and then an object ricocheting off the door, pushing it open. 

Rodney had a moment to see that it was the gun before the pair of men burst into the room still engaged in all out battle for the upper hand. 

It was nothing like watching a choreographed martial arts movie. The pair of them were definitely trying to kill each other as hard and fast as they possibly could. 

There was no politeness, and no flipping, and there was a crushing bruise on Kolya's face and marks on John's neck. "Yes! And police, please, send help..." He hung on to the phone for a moment, but set it down to try to follow where the gun had gone. 

It was difficult with the pair of them crashing around and every blow hit solidly, with force intended to maim or kill. He could tell Kolya was in a killing rage now, from the way his eyes were dark and glittered as he whirled and kicked out at the other man, and John ducked and kicked back at his supporting knee trying to topple him. Every move lead to a counter move and John's youth was offset by his obvious injuries and the way he left huge smears of blood every time he was kicked back against something. 

"You are good Major, but you did not grow up... in the Soviet military." 

"Something to be grateful for," John managed warily. "If it produced sadistic fuckers like you." 

The best Rodney could really do was stay away from them, dodge them. Waffle had started to bark excitedly, bouncing near them both. All of it was distracting Rodney from finding the gun, and when he finally spotted it -- ah, under the desk. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like his movement towards it also caught the eye of Acastus, who used John's moment of distraction to flip him over his head into the heavy bookshelf, sending John crashing down in a rain of heavy academic tomes that scattered everywhere. 

All of a sudden it was Kolya's hand reaching for the gun in front of him. 

And he cowed. He shouldn't have, but he jerked back in fear and pain and Rodney wasn't sure what else, but Kolya got his fingers around the gun before Rodney could and it was all over, fuck, it was all over. 

But at least he was going to leave a mess behind. The 911 operator still had to be on the phone. Police would come. People would look for John. 

"You defied me." Acastus growled at him. "And there is only one thing to be done with bad puppies..." 

Without hesitation he stood, aimed at Rodney, looking him straight in the eye with an expression that was pure hatred and pulled the trigger. At that moment, Waffle who had become increasingly panicked by what was going on and obviously seeing that Rodney was under threat jumped, not at Kolya as he had been trained never to do that, but at Rodney to push him down. 

Rodney heard the piercing yelp as Waffle collapsed mid-jump, rolling off to one side. 

He didn't just yelp and fall, though, he yelped and whined and rolled on the floor, while Rodney staggered to his feet, pushed himself upright. There were books in reach, and Rodney didn't care if Kolya had a gun because he, he was in trouble anyway. He was going to die, and he wasn't going to just lay there and take it. 

Acastus was distracted and Rodney grabbed a heavy political theory book and just laid into him with it, for trying to kill him, for shooting Waffle who had been innocent of everything, for hurting John and... 

Kolya fended him off and then struck at him with the gun across the face, knocking him away. 

Once again he was facing the muzzle of the gun and this time it was John who hurtled over and tackled Kolya out the door, into the passage way again, bellowing in anger. 

The strike across his face made the world go white for a brief moment, then haze with red, but he tried to struggle to his feet again, towards the phone. Maybe they were sending help. Maybe they were... "H-hello?" 

He heard the operator murmur, "Thank god!" and then say. "There are vehicles on the way to your address sir. We heard a gunshot... are you injured?" 

"Yes, but he shot my dog. He still has the gun, but -- hold on." Kolya was yelling, in pain. Maybe John had hands in his eyes or something, anything to hurt him, to stop him. He stepped out of the study, looking for John. 

They were near the top of the stairs still fighting for control of the gun with John apparently biting at the hand trying to push his neck back. Acastus caught sight of him and automatically swung his arm down to sight on him and that it seemed was enough. 

John glanced over in a split second seemed to make an instantaneous decision and hooked Acastus's leg out from under him so they both went over backwards -- too near the top of the stairs. Over they went and it was the most god-awful racket Rodney had ever heard, but even the thumping didn't drown out the couple of sharp cracks of bone giving way under pressure. 

And then there was silence. 

It was broken by a whining, and Rodney was only half aware that the whining was his own voice as he stumbled down the stairs, one hand on a railing to keep his footing. So still, oh god, oh, fuck, that had been a *snap*, and they'd both been tangled up... 

He got past their legs, picking bare spots on the steps in a hurry. His knees shook, but it didn't matter as he knelt down by their upper bodies, reaching fingers out towards John's neck. 

A pulse. Thank god, a pulse. He was all over blood and looked a hell of a state but his eyes opened a moment, looking confused and dazed. "Rodney?" 

"You, you..." His voice caught, twisted in his throat, and there was a noise again, but he didn't care because John hadn't been that snapping noise. John was awake. 

"Hey... hey..." John untangled a hand and raised it to touch Rodney's cheek. "I don't think I can move. I've screwed ...my leg again. Did you... get through to anyone?" 

The call seemed like hours before, but it had probably been only minutes. 

"They're sending help. Shouldn't be long." Not long at all. Seconds, maybe. Not more than another minute or so. He sucked in a hitching breath, and pressed against John's hand. "Shot Waffle." 

He was surprised to see a look of regret over John's battered face. He didn't know why, it wasn't as if Waffle had known him, but perhaps he knew from how much he talked about him what he meant. "Is he...?" 

Rodney wasn't even sure. He'd seen him go down, and that miserable noise, whines and flailing, it hadn't, it wasn't something that Rodney would *assume* was good. "Waffle? C'mere, boy! C'mere, Waffle!" He managed to raise his voice a little, still concentrating on breathing, but listening for sounds of motion. 

"Go... go find him," John replied. "I'm not going anywhere. Get some clothes, okay?" He looked very pale, lying there pinned under the body of a dead man. 

"Closet's locked." He said it casually, and shifted to push at Kolya. Dead. It wasn't sinking it. It was just bouncing off of his surface, like his mind had a meniscus that had reached its limit and wasn't willing to take any more, thanks. Dead. Acastus was just easier to shove off of John. 

Of course, that made John swear in pain even as a very unhappy looking Waffle came weaving unsteadily down the stairs whimpering. There was blood matting the left side of his head and he headed to Rodney with great determination. 

At the same time, there was the sound of sirens outside. 

Sirens. After years and years, it was over. Just like that, just like falling down stairs. Waffle tripped a little, stumbled, and avoided John's legs and Kolya's body, heading straight for Rodney's stomach. Waffle wanted hugs and petting, and that was a feeling he could sympathize with. "Sorry. Sorry, I won't -- I don't know what to do." 

"It's okay... it's gonna be okay," John said in a tired voice. "They'll take us to hospital, and Waffle to a vet. They'll come take our statements." He cleared his throat. "If...I pass out, which I probably will, there is a recorder in my pants. Better than any statement. Tell them to contact Major Evan Lorne, or General Jack O'Neill. They can fill in details." 

Waffle nuzzled at him, trembling and shaking, sensing the upset and Rodney's fear. 

"I can do that." He slipped an arm as tightly as he dared over Waffle's abdomen, hugging him close, but staying close to John, too, as close as he could. There was no sense in staying near the door. He probably needed to get up to unlock it, though. 

"You don't have to worry about what he might think when they ask you," John murmured. "It's over Rodney. Not the... not the rescue I envisaged. I had something to tell you but..." He frowned, dazed as if he couldn't quite focus now. His free hand patted at Rodney gently. 

"It can wait." He needed time for his mind to keep up with his body. Catch up with it, which was funny since his body was moving pretty slow. Sitting, kneeling like that, it made his arms hurt worse, ache, made his back start to scream at him again. He had to force himself to stand up so he could unlock the door for the police before they did something stupid. 

Sounded like they already were. There was a thumping sound at the door as someone kicked the door, once, twice and a crash as it open. Waffle whined and then attempted to get up to growl protectively because Rodney was all he had, but he just wasn't very convincing and his attempt made John laugh weakly even as the police ran in. 

"Put your hands in the... uh..." The officer seemed to realize that he was addressing a naked man, who was holding a bloody dog. They were probably all a bloody mess, but fresh whippings did that. It still made Rodney tense, and he tried to not move. 

"He's dead." 

"That's him, not me..." John said vaguely. "We're not doing so good here guys? Even the dog got shot." 

The paramedics were waved forward cautiously and double checked Kolya's body confirming the pronouncement that he was dead. "Can you tell us what happened?" he asked both of them as he started looking over Rodney's injuries as they were most obvious. 

What happened. 

Rodney shifted back, and closed his eyes, still holding tight to Waffle, hoping that someone would get to John next. What happened. Normal enough day, until Acastus had told him what he'd planned, and even that was normal to a point. "It's going to, to take a while, can we get out of here first? I..." 

"Sure. I was just asking what injuries you had," the paramedic said. 

"He's been whipped and raped at the least. Long standing case of Patronage abuse," John's voice was definitely slurred. "Needs..." 

And that was it. He was out cold, sprawled on the floor. 

"Let's get some stretchers in here!" the paramedic called out. "Don't you worry sir, we'll take good care of you and your friend." 

Raped. He wasn't even sure if that was what it was, but John seemed sure and that... He closed his eyes, and hugged onto Waffle. "Okay. He's, he's military, General O'Neill can explain for him what he was doing here." 

And that was all he could manage to say, because it was over. If he opened his eyes, he'd be looking at Acastus's slack jaw, the odd twist of his neck. His death. After ten, ten long, hungry, miserable and strange years... 

The best Rodney could manage was to be compliant with the paramedics.

* * *

"We're going to release you now, Mr. McKay. This is the phone number for the counselor at the clinic. The detective said he's done with you for right now. I want you to keep your back clean. If it starts to turn red or feels hot, come back to the hospital, all right?" 

The nurse was brisk, but gentle underneath of it, and he kept putting pieces of paper into his hands like he knew what to do with them. He'd already changed into scrubs, because he'd come to the hospital wrapped up in a blanket from one of the officers, but he wasn't sure quite how much time had passed between then, then with Acastus and John, and then there in the hospital. He'd slept, and his back felt better, but his arms still ached miserably. "When can I find out if my dog is okay?" 

"I'm afraid you'll have to call the police and find out where he was sent," the nurse replied. "Now do you have any one to pick you up?" 

"No. I'll, I'll get a Taxi. I want to see John first." He started to stand up, clutching tightly to the little guiding pieces of paper she'd given him. 

"Well, you're good to go. Remember, a maximum of four of those heavy strength pain pills in a day," she instructed, standing back to let him get up. "John... oh, that's Major Sheppard isn't it? He's down the corridor, room 209. He might be a little sedated." 

Rodney could have done with being a little sedated, himself. He wasn't even sure how he was going to get into the house. He hadn't exactly been spirited out of there with keys. It was a good thing, too, or they would've had to have been up his ass. "Okay. Thanks." He tested his balance, knees a little wobbly, but started to walk. 

Things were disorientatingly open and lonely. There was no one there telling him what to do, what he should be doing. His back hurt and he wanted to see Waffle and hug him because they could be lonely together. 

But John was just there, right there, and Rodney peered into the room. He looked better than he had before, not that that was difficult. He'd been under a body the last time he'd seen John, really looked at him. They'd been in separate ambulances, and he'd been bleary in the emergency room, drifting in and out of coherence. 

John looked better, though, and there was no-one else in the little room, so he wandered a little into the space, heading for the chair. 

Almost immediately, John's head turned and he opened his eyes. "Hey, Rodney..." He was back to sounding laid back and happy, although it was probably drugs. 

"Hey. They've released me. How're you?" Rodney did sit down, fingers clutched tightly around his pieces of paper. He didn't even have a pocket, not a pants one. 

"Drugs are my friends right now," John drawled. "They re...uh...relocated my shoulder earlier. Feels a lot better now. Released huh? In time for your defense yeah?" 

Oh fuck. Rodney leaned forwards, elbows on the mattress of John's bed. "What day is today?" 

"Not sure...I didn't fall asleep and lose a day did I?" John said. "If I didn't...then I think tomorrow is Friday." 

That sounded right to Rodney. In and out in 24 hours. Life reformed in so little time. "Tomorrow, then. Hn. I don't even have my suit to wear. I, I don't have keys." 

"And the house is a crime scene." John seemed to rouse himself a little. "Crap. Uh... I was hoping to be out at the same time. Let me think a moment." 

"Laptop's there, too. Maybe I can get a lockpick." Rodney kept his head down, trying to force himself to think through it. 

"What's on it you need? Got anything at your office? Backups?" John asked trying to focus. "Mm..." 

"Yeah. But my office keys? Also are at the house." And he didn't want to go back there. There was blood on the walls and he just didn't want to be there. Just didn't. He'd rather stay with John, where he could get a little less alone. 

John seemed to be thinking for a while. "Okay, somewhere over here," he waved towards the side table, "is my stuff. In my jacket is my wallet and keys. I'll give you the address of the flat I've been staying at and you go there. You use the money, my credit cards to buy yourself a suit and whatever clothes and food and in the apartment is a copy set of keys I took to your office okay? Should give you enough time to go get what you need." 

"You copied my keys?" Of course he had. He was blackops. He was Acastus on the other side of the coin. Rodney closed his eyes tightly. "Can I even use your cards? Is that legal?" 

"Whose going to know? Especially if you take my jacket with you. If any of my stuff fits you, use that," John replied and grimaced. "They won't let me out until the drugs are out of my system and you need the time. If you don't want to *stay* there use it to book into a hotel or something. Or...you could ask for a postponement of your defense?" 

"Cowan is one of Acastus's friends." He didn't even want to bring it up, didn't want to talk about what had happened, because he had a vague sense that Cowan would want the lurid details. "I thought cards needed ID." Acastus had always flashed his when they were out shopping, handing both over at once, ID and Card. 

"Shit, yeah..." John seemed to focus. "Uh, in that case back at my place inside the guitar case is my emergency fund. There's a couple of hundred dollars there. Running money." 

"We won't need to run?" Acastus was dead. It seemed logical that, no, but he wasn't so good at gauging what was going on, apparently. 

"No. No running, so emergency suit buying, taxi hiring and feeding Rodney money," John said, reaching out towards him with his good arm. 

"Rodney'll pay you back." For the suit and the taxi and yeah, any food he got. John reached out for him, and he leaned into John. "I can't believe it's over." 

"You know, usually my rescues are of a higher standard than that," John replied. "No wait... actually, forget I said that. Most of them suck." 

Rodney shifted, leaned into John, bent over the mattress. "We're alive. Didn't think we would be. You went down the stairs..." 

"Not my best plan," John said stroking at his hair. "How's Waffle the wonder-dog?" 

"Police took him somewhere. I have a card with the detective's number to call. And a prescription I need to get. And a counselor that I'm supposed to call." He leaned into that hand. "I don't think I can do this." 

"Sure you can," John replied. "You could defend your thesis asleep and on drugs anyway, and it'll only be for tonight, until I'm kicked out of here. I'm not cutting you loose just yet, you know." 

"Good. I, I can defend my work in my sleep, but the rest of this stuff..." He shrugged his shoulders a little, still leaned into John. "I'll get the hang of. Thanks." 

"Don't forget to get food, " John reminded him. "And trust me, it's gonna be okay Rodney. You can call me on the phone when you get there. Sleep in my bed, it's a bit lumpy but better than what you're used to." 

"Hey, the beanbag bed on the floor was okay." It was really Waffle's, but it was nice. It implied a certain level of freedom from fear. "I'll call you when I get there. And I'll eat." He still didn't move away. 

John stroked at his hair a moment longer. "You don't want to leave do you?" he said. "I'm okay with that but... you should know, in a minute the next round of drugs are kicking in and I'll be out of it for a bit." 

"You should rest. I'll be okay." He could make himself get through it, work through it. Get up. He shifted, started to pull back. "I'll visit afterwards tomorrow. Let you know how it went." 

"Yeah." John was already looking like he was on the verge of drifting off again."Wanna be there." 

Wanted to be there. Rodney nodded a little, watching as John's eyes hazed, lost focus, and he was left alone in the world again. John's wallet, for his house keys, right. His jacket, too. Rodney headed to the pile of clothes in the corner, careful to not disturb anything else. The jacket was a good idea because he could put the pieces of paper in his pocket, and feel a little less vulnerable in his surroundings. His back hurt enough that he wanted something soft against it, and the jacket had a definite worn weight to it. 

It reminded him of John as well and that was enough to give him motivation to actually leave. He had things he had promised to do. Call a taxi, go to John's apartment. Get his documents from the office. Get clothes. 

Move and do and function as if everything was all right, as if he hadn't just been set free and didn't know what to do. 

He was down to the elevator before he realized he needed to get his prescription filled. Somewhere. People went *somewhere* for that, didn't they? 

He didn't really know. He didn't even know how to ask, he just stood there blankly with the prescription in hand. Perhaps the nurses were used to people standing looking dazed because eventually one of them stopped and firmly directed him to the dispensary. 

Being free had seemed a great idea, until he started to realize that there was a list as long as his arm of things that he didn't know how to do, that he'd never had to do for himself. 

The pharmacy was all very brisk, very move move move, taking his piece of paper, eyeing him, and then telling him to sit on a bench and wait to be called. 

Kolya had done all those things. Or forbidden them. His concerns had been only to please Acastus. That was it. He had not realized how much of life that had locked him away from. He was a brilliant doctoratal candidate and he didn't know how to pick up a prescription. 

Nevertheless, somehow he seemed to be presented with it. 

He pocketed that, too, before zipping John's coat up tight. Hailing a Taxi. It was nothing, it was just waving a car down and telling them where he was going, and... 

And Rodney stopped short of the wall of sliding glass doors, rifling the pockets of that jacket because he had no idea where John lived. 

It was more by luck that he found the keys had fob with an address on it. Pretty much an open invitation to thieves but useful to him. No apartment number, although he was hoping to work that out when he got there. Hopefully the taxi would have a clue where the building was. 

There turned out to be a reasonable amount of cash in the wallet. 

And John wanted him to buy a suit for his defense. John wanted him to succeed, and he was going to get nothing out of Rodney's success but poorer for it. Poorer and injured, for a man who didn't even know *how* John was hurting. But no, he'd been too self centered and worried and knotted up to even ask...  
He just wanted to curl up somewhere - the foot of John's bed maybe and let it all go past him but John wanted him to do this and maybe he didn't know much, but he still knew how to follow orders. 

Fuck. It was cold outside but there were taxi's there, and he watched other people a moment before trying it out himself. 

Man could live through mimicry, he decided as he waved at one Taxi, and hurried forwards, opening the back door. "Hey, I need to get to Waltz street." 

"What building?" the driver said and he had to take a look, feeling a bit hazy as he gave the name of the apartment building. Maybe the taxi guy would know where he could get a suit. Or something. 

But he let the man drive in silence for a while, first. Or he could always ask the next taxi-driver where to get a suit. That was probably more logical. One step, and then another. 

He barely went off campus; this was too big. Too huge and bright and there was no one guiding him. He was literally dumped on the pavement in front of a building that could be where he was going, or could be somewhere completely different. His forehead was starting to prickle with sweat and he felt like he couldn't breathe properly. 

The keys fitted the outer door so that was a start and he looked around at the post boxes until he worked out a vague room number that was *probably* Sheppard's by a little mental application of probability factors. 

Worst that could happen, he'd try the key and some angry friend of Acastus's would open the door and choke him to death. 

It wasn't a very reassuring worst case scenario, but he still fitted the key into the lock, satisfied when it slid into place, before he turned it to see if it might throw the tumblers. It was all simple physics, locks. 

To his surprise it worked, and no one leapt out to kill him. The apartment was small and pretty neat aside from papers all over the place, and then scribbles on a whiteboard, pictures pinned up on the wall, and information everywhere. 

But it was more comfortable here, than outside. 

It was small and contained and there was no-one looking at him like he was crazy to be outside. He could put real clothes on -- John had said he could, told him to -- and then eat. 

Eat whatever he wanted, without Kolya stroking at his ribs and telling him that he was starting to put on 'padding', that he was starting to lose his sleek look. 

He hesitated, feeling bad and... disobedient at even thinking things like this and using the mantra that John had given him permission and had *told* him to do this to keep going and went over to the closet. 

John it seemed, wore a lot of black. Black t-shirts, black pants. Black joggers and sweat-shirts. He wasn't the same size exactly but them being on the loose side was all to the good. 

Rodney pulled out pants, and skimmed off his scrubs. His ass was sore, but that was a given. That was life, that was life with Acastus, that was always being ready to keep the man pleased with him. He pulled on John's pants, and reached for a warm-looking shirt to pull on. 

He found a soft looking sweatshirt that really was too baggy but no one looked *really* bad in black, even if he felt incredibly bad for wearing clothes in the house. Then he looked around finding sneakers that vaguely fitted if he pulled them tight. And then he was standing looking face to face at a picture of Kolya. Several pictures on a board with notes, arrows, scribbles of information there. Lines off to clusters of other pictures all with a red cross through them and a date scrawled in John's writing. 

It made his heart stop for a moment, even as he reached for the red pen that laid at the bottom of the board. Dates and red lines, strike throughs. He wished he hadn't known who they were. But some of them were familiar, the face of the man who'd shot Carson, another, one of Acastus's usual dinner guests. Crossed out. 

He leaned up, and put a strike through Kolya's face before he really thought about it. 

Rodney had the idea that John was doing things - he talked about having to get things ready but it was only here and now that he connected that with actual things, not just waiting for the right time. He couldn't take in the notes scribbled by the side of the pictures, as he shied away from the implication that Kolya really had been worse than he appeared. In truth it was a miracle he had been ready as quickly as he had been. 

There wasn't a single picture on the board now that didn't have a strike through it. Rodney stepped back, pen clutched tight in one hand. Acastus was dead. The other men were dead or gone, and he didn't care how John defined 'not a problem'. Acastus was dead, and he was dressed in the house, in *someone* else's house. 

And no-one was going to wake him up in the night to please them, not John, if John were there. He was going to be breaking all the rules, now. 

Rationally he knew it was stupid to be afraid, but he was terrified at the mere thought of being free and rule breaking. He wanted John there, because John seemed to realize he needed someone there, even if he was incredibly laid back. Or appeared to be. 

He knew Acastus would never let people he barely knew have the run of his house. 

But John did. John did, but John knew that Rodney wouldn't hurt any of his things. He knew, because... Because he just did, Rodney wondered as he turned away from the board, only absently putting the pen down. He was dressed, and he knew he had a place to come back to. So he turned and looked for John's guitar. 

He wondered if John actually played. Once, he had considered being a pianist. A long time ago, a lifetime ago and then he turned to math, physics and engineering thinking that would be a better way out of working in a mine because that was 'where he belonged'. 

He was meant to go and get a suit. He half wanted to do his defense dressed like this in something that at least reminded him of someone that gave him comfort and support. 

But, he wasn't. He wasn't comforted and supported, not at the defense. They were there to judge him worthy or not worthy, despite the obviousness that he *was*. And he needed to look good. It was a rule, and everyone was used to him dressing well, looking good for the sake of Acastus' pride. Because how he looked said, said something about the support Acastus gave. Not the other way around. Not the, not the... 

Rodney hugged the sweatshirt tighter around himself, and spotted the guitar case. It was easy to set it on John's bed, with locks that flipped smoothly open. 

John hadn't been lying. It took some looking for, but the stash was there, neatly taped up with a couple of credit cards that had very obviously fake names on them with corresponding driving licenses and ID's, When John said it was a running away kit, he was hadn't been kidding. 

So he had money. Enough to buy more than a suit. He had to go to the office as well, but that at least was familiar and he could cope with that he thought though he was very tired now. 

And food. He wanted food. 

Maybe food before a suit. He had time to think about it, as he wandered towards the front door, stuffing the money into his pockets. 

Suit first, because if he got tired he could order something. That's what people did, ordered takeout. He knew how to use phones, he wasn't completely useless. No, he was going to get a taxi, head towards the nearest store that sold suits, get one and then get the taxi to swing back via his office, get his back ups and laptops and notes and hole up here until the morning. Then he would do his defense and everything would be fine. 

He had a plan.

* * *

The best laid plans of mice and men often something something. He wanted to say it was 'often go awry', but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was some strange welsh phrase that amounted to the same thing. Cognates only existed to allow snotty people to correct him. 

Snotty people like the one in the store he'd just stepped into. When he opened the door, there was a ring of a bell, a quiet ting, and then he was stepping into a place made of smooth hair and moisturized faces that made *him* uncomfortable. Oh, god, and there was a salesman coming towards him. 

He was looking at him as if he didn't belong in the store, as if he could tell that Rodney was breaking rules just by being there. And he was, he really was. He hadn't bought clothes for himself in... forever. In fact, Acastus didn't, hadn't allowed him money. 

"Is there something I can help you with?" The man's tone made it clear he doubted it. 

"I need to buy a suit." He said it firmly, because it was fact. He needed to buy a suit and Acastus was dead, and even with Acastus dead, puppies still had *needs* and work to do. He needed to show up to his defense. 

John had told him he should and that ... okay, it wasn't a rule or an order but it was as close as he was going to get so he was reaching for it. 

"I see," the assistant said giving him a look that managed to impugn his capability at doing anything with two syllables. "Is it for an occasion?" 

"Yes. I'm defending my dissertation at NIT tomorrow morning." Which meant he needed it *now*, that afternoon, needed to go home with it, but Kolya had always praised how his sleek frame had made it possible to buy him things without him necessarily being there. 

"Oh, I see. A student," the man replied as if he had found Rodney stuck to the bottom of his shoe and wanted to scrape it off along with other slime he found there. "I believe that you might find our merchandise a little rich for a student's wallet -- unless of course you have a wealthy Patron hmm?" 

Rodney clenched his jaw, because he could feel that 'wild streak' Acastus had always accused him of having, had always crowed about taming, coming to the fore. "My patron is Acastus Kolya. I think I can afford *better* than your store's suits, but I'm here at my own convenience." 

"Oh indeed? Well then, what is your preference sir?" the assistant was falsely deferential. "If there is anything that is sufficient of course." 

He hated people. He hated people and he hated the town and he wanted to get as far away as soon as he could. See Carson. Carson was in Colorado, John had said, and they'd go there after the defense and he didn't care if Carson was asleep or awake, as long as he could see him and know that there were people in the world, his world, at least two of them, who were worth more than the fucker standing in front of him. Better people, who didn't care what stock he was from. "Something dark, that fits." 

"Are you sure?" the man said and he was sure that he was messing with him just because he recognized him as an easy mark. He noticed that they were being watched by a few other assistants, but that they split up and scattered as a supervisor come over. 

"Is there a problem here, Gerard?" the supervisor asked giving the assistant a look. 

"No sir, just a minor misunderstanding..." 

"I'm trying to buy a suit, and your assistant keeps asking if I'm *sure* I'd actually like to purchase anything here," Rodney told the man, frowning as he stuck his hands in the pockets of John's jacket. 

"I see. Gerard, please help Darren with the stock taking. I'll take over here," the supervisor said. It seemed no supervisor alive would pass up the possibility of a sale. "My apologies for that sir. We do have issues with... uh certain groups of people coming in and causing problems. Now, let's see... I think you would look good in the dark colors. A navy or perhaps a black or charcoal. A pinstripe might suit you..." 

It was a back handed sort of apology as he implied Rodney fitted the profile of these rogue elements. 

"I'm not going to be picky. I need to have it fit, because I don't have time for a fitting. My dissertation defense is tomorrow. So if you have one that will fit me." He nodded as he talked, trying to convey a willingness to let the supervisor guide the sale. 

"With your build sir, I'm sure we have something very stylish. " The supervisor looked him over with a practiced eye, obviously mentally calculating measurements. "For a defense... a smart business suit. I think we have a few options for you to try over here sir." 

He picked out , seemingly at random several hangers, jackets and pants. "I believe this will fit, but please, try them on, I have been known to be out by a couple of inches on first glance." 

And Rodney was dressed badly. "Thank you. Where are your dressing rooms?" Even if the man wasn't *warm*, he was efficient and Rodney just wanted to try them on and get out of there. 

"Over here sir." And he was ushered in, with the man standing sentry outside. This shouldn't be so hard, He just wanted to lock the door and collapse in the corner. Instead he was answering back and doing things that made him fill with an aimless dread. 

But he couldn't. He shucked off John's jacket, hanging it carefully from a clothes hook on the wall, before he pulled John's sweatshirt up over his head, and reached for the darkish grey shirt that the man had brought him. It was harder than it seemed to do that *and* toe his shoes off, squirming out of John's sweatpants. 

His back was aching and sore, still numbed from whatever they gave him at the hospital but edges of unpleasant sensation creeping in. Bending was hard, moving his arms to get in the shirt was difficult but he had practice and it was at least a nice shirt. Shoes. He needed shoes as well and... was there a tie with this outfit? Oh thank God, one less thing. It was going to be expensive. 

That was all right. He *would* pay Sheppard back, once everything got sorted. Rodney stood up straight for a moment once he had the shirt on, looking at himself in the mirror, dick hanging beneath the hem of the shirt. Fuck, right, underwear. He hadn't even been thinking of it, and maybe *that* was why they'd all been staring at him. 

It was a different rule, but not one he understood that well. You weren't meant to do that sort of thing, but his rules told him otherwise. That was what he was meant to do. He wasn't going to ask for underwear *here*. He'd have to borrow something of Sheppard's. 

The shirt looked okay. The dick, probably not the sort of accessory he needed to go with it. 

But the shirt, yeah. He twisted, slowly contemplating how best to pull the pants on. It was going to hurt, no matter how he moved. Maybe *quickly* was his best option, so Rodney picked them up, shook them out a little once they were off the hanger, and started to step into them one leg at a time. 

There would've been a time when Acastus would've brought things like this home and he would've tried them on as something to entertain him, made it a show of sorts to see him smile and thought himself lucky that he was coaxed into a good mood. 

Acastus was dead though. And the pain he felt was down to him. Pants on, and the supervisor was earning his wage tonight. 

He was standing outside of Rodney's door like he expected him to steal. He reached for the suit jacket, and it was a pain to slide on, too, shoulders tight with scars and new wounds, but he was all bandaged up, so it wasn't a problem. Once Rodney was satisfied that he was tucked up and zipped up and comfortable, he pushed a hand through his hair and *looked* at himself. Barefoot, yes, but he always did clean up well. 

He looked a very different man to the one who had stepped into the store. But even so he could still see in himself shades of Kolya's puppy, hoping that he had permission to do this. 

"Sir, is there anything else you require?" 

"Shoes. Do you happen to sell shoes here?" They didn't even need to be comfortable. He just needed to look presentable while sitting down, long enough to talk circles around the committee. He cracked the door open, so the supervisor didn't think he was doing something he shouldn't in the dressing room. 

"Of course sir. If you tell me your size and can bring you a selection." The man looked down at his bare feet. "And perhaps some socks too?" 

"Please. I'm a size ten." He kept his hand on the door handle, and just stayed there while the man walked away. He could wait. The man seemed like he wanted the sale made in a hurry, anyway. 

If he held on to the handle, it stopped his hand shaking, even though he shivered anyway. He still felt like he couldn't breathe properly and that he was naked of any sort of protection in the world. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was he doing here? How the hell was he going to give his defense when he couldn't buy a suit without going to pieces. Fuck. 

He didn't belong in this world. He wasn't *allowed* this world. 

It wasn't his. His world was small and compact and controlled, predictable because he had no control. He taught his classes because they were *his*, his right, his job because Acastus told him it was his job to do and do well, like his dissertation, but he was dead and he wasn't there to impart the *rules* any longer. And Rodney needed them, because he had no idea what he was doing. And they, that assistant? He could see it, he could *tell* that Rodney didn't belong that, could tell that he was feigning humanity, had no idea what he was doing. 

All Rodney had to do was fake it for a few minutes longer. 

"Socks and shoes sir," the supervisor said passing them to him. "There are several pairs to try. I recommend the ones with the soft leather look. It will go with the suit better." 

"Thank you." He took them, and maybe he was a little hasty in closing the door. A little quick, but the dressing room felt small and comfortable. There was a bench on the side wall, and he could sit there and pull on socks, the shoes, try them on quickly. It was just like getting dressed in the morning, only Acastus wasn't watching him, hadn't picked them out. He was making decisions for himself now, except he shuffled open the box with the soft-leather look to them, lightly polished, and tried them on. He was making decisions with help. 

Small steps, one at a time. He hissed a couple of times at the soreness of trying to do this. It would be worse tomorrow, he knew that from experience. He wondered how long they would keep John in the hospital and how long before they went to find Carson in Colorado. That could be something to aim for, a reward for being good. 

Socks on, shoes on, lavender tie on. Neat and precise. It was a good suit. 

It was definitely a good suit. He looked good. It was a the kind of thing Acastus would have loved to see him in, did love to see him in. He closed his eyes, and propped the door open. The supervisor was still there, still supervising him. "I'll take it. Just give me a minute to change out of it." 

"I'll prepare the bill for you," the man replied and it still seemed like he wanted him out as quickly as possible. 

That suited him fine. 

Rodney took his time undressing, took his time carefully folding the clothes to put them back on the hanger, pulling his borrowed clothes on. He could have walked out of there wearing the suit, but he preferred comfort over looking good. Warm clothes, soft against his back, a jacket that smelled like John. 

He hadn't realized how dependent he had become on the other man, but it didn't diminish his desire to find Carson, to see him as well. It was nearly a physical pain with as much power over him as the marks on his back. 

He wanted Waffle back too, someone familiar and comforting, who was probably the only reason he had any experience that love and affection could be unconditional rather than dependent on being 'good' or not breaking rules. 

He eventually exited the changing room, to find the supervisor had everything ready to just take the clothes from him, and get him on his way as quickly as possible. 

That was fine. Rodney wanted to be out of there. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets, and scanned around the counter while the man told him the price. Okay. Okay, he had that. 700 for a good suit, not bad at all. 

Just as well he had raided the emergency fund. The man looked a little surprised when he paid him in cash and his "Have a good evening," was a lot more sincere than any conversation they'd had before. Still, he couldn't wait to get out of there. The sheer amount of people, stores, vehicles, light overwhelmed him. 

Another Taxi, then, go to the university, and he could go back to John's. Get food sent in, and rest. Rest, and call about Waffle, and daydream about Colorado. 

That way he could at least be breaking *less* rules.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Carson was frankly amazed he was there. It was some cascade of bizarre events. Two days ago he had woken up, to be informed he had been shot -- something he didn't need to be reminded of thank you very much, and then drowned, which he could well believe, as wisps of nightmares recollected the panicked feeling of trying to move to get out of the sinking car, the surge of cold water sharpening his survival instinct long enough to get out, before it sapped his strength. 

Apparently, a certain Major Sheppard had made it there in time, dived in after him and then breathed and pumped life back into him, even if he cracked a few ribs in the process. The same man had been trying to extricate Rodney from his situation and Carson had been almost immediately stricken with the need to see Rodney somehow, and meet this Major John Sheppard. 

Evan had been fussing around him, and had been guilt ridden enough that when news came of the abduction and crisis when Carson demanded that he *needed* to be there, to see them even though he couldn't walk himself yet, he gave in to his demands. 

He wasn't lying, he needed to be there. He was pretty sure only he knew that Rodney would need someone there, quite how pervasive the abuse had been. Evan just didn't seem to understand it was more than an attack. 

So he used every emotional hold he had over his Patron to get them to the hospital where Rodney had been admitted and Major Sheppard, only to discover that Rodney had been released and Major Sheppard was having a standoff with his doctors about leaving so he could try and go somewhere. 

A somewhere that turned out to be Rodney's defense and Carson had taken over, appalled that Rodney was there alone, after going through such an ordeal and without an anchor in the world. Fortunately John appeared determined and of the same mind to the point that he had arranged for Waffle to be brought to the hospital and discharged himself in his determination to be there. 

Carson found himself warming to the man already, even if he was being ridiculously macho about not having a wheelchair and he was pretty sure none of them strictly should be out of the hospital. 

But out they were and being chauffer driven by Evan at high speed towards the University even as Waffle tried to crouch down with them. 

"I had forgotten it was the defense today," Carson admitted not knowing what else to say to this man. 

"I haven't. Then again, I haven't been in a coma for the past couple of weeks. You lose track of time when you're unconscious." He drawled it, lazy, like he wasn't all that connected to things. When he clearly was connected enough to argue his way out of the hospital with a bum leg and broken ribs, and the marks of a whipping on his back. 

He only knew that much when he heard the nurse and doctors remonstrating with John, otherwise he might not've suspected. 

"Aye well, as excuses go, it's a pretty good one," Carson replied. "What time does it start?" He had a vague memory that they might be missing the very beginning. 

"About ten minutes ago. He had the keys to my apartment, and he went out and bought a suit, and ordered pizza. Rodney called to tell me he was okay this morning before he left. That's when I started to try to argue my way out of there. Thanks for the help, by the way. He's going to fall over himself when he sees you there." 

"Well he might not know I'm coming, but he knows I'm awake and I'd be interested at least?" Carson asked. 

"And should still be in the hospital," Lorne added from the driver's seat. 

"I hear there's a lot of that going around," Carson responded. "Besides, I've had two weeks worth of healing going on." 

"Uh, he doesn't actually know you're awake yet. I was going to tell him, but then Kolya snagged him and left the 'come and get him or I'll kill him' note on Rodney's desk, and it's kind of slipped my mind." There was a vague sheepish note to the man's voice as he cut his eyes sideways at Carson. "By the time Kolya was dead, neither of us were in much shape for thinking." 

"Aye well, I can understand that. So he thinks I'm still in a coma and most likely brain damaged?" Carson asked. 

Lorne snorted. "You *are* brain damaged, if this trip is anything to go by." 

"I am the medical doctor here laddie, I know my capabilities," Carson replied with a faint smile. 

"Sure you do," Lorne replied. "The moment this is over we're getting you back to Colorado." 

"All of us." Carson decreed. "Including Waffle." 

Waffle lifted his head, wuffing at nothing in particular at the sound of his name. John laughed a little, and laid a hand on Waffle's head. "Mellow dog. He took a bullet for Rodney. I guess he was pretty sure who he was loyal to. So, uh. Why're you still in a wheelchair?" 

"Because he had a high velocity bullet ricochet around inside of him messing up a few things like his intestine, his kidney and nicking his liver. And then he went and got pneumonia from the drowning and fluid in his lungs," Lorne said disapprovingly. 

"Which is gone now," Carson felt he had to add. "But it's left me as weak as a kitten, truth be told Major." He petted Waffle carefully, over the ludicrous looking dressing over his left ear. "And if I wasn't worried about Rodney, I would be more than happy to loiter in my hospital bed until they are all satisfied, but I can't seem to make people understand how important it is that he have people there." 

"Carson, he's managed this long..." 

"Yeah, because he's doing so well out there on his own. He was telling me about buying a suit and ordering a pizza like he'd just climbed mount Everest, Major Lorne. No offense, McKay is definitely going to be a brilliant scientific contribution to the SGC, but he's not used to functioning in our world." 

"Thank you Major -- exactly what I've been trying to tell him," Carson replied, pleased at John's apparent perception. "And it's not just about the contribution, it's about him. No one should have to have lived like that without someone helping them. Caring for him." He glanced at Sheppard because his actions were more than just someone finishing up a mission. 

Things, Carson had a feeling, had gotten more complicated than he'd already suspected that they were. "It's sort of our fault, too. I mean, he was doing okay when he thought that the life Kolya made was real, but we showed him what the real world should be like, and his whole foundation just fell apart. Until I got in the house, I didn't have any real idea of what was going on. Kolya kept his *clothes* locked up, for starters, and he has no idea where the key is." 

"He didn't allow him *clothes*?" Carson found himself horrified. "What else did you find out Major?" He needed to know. Rodney was going to need a lot of patience to coax him into normality and as he didn't know what was normal and what wasn't, there was no use asking him what the problems were. 

"I'm pretty sure the physical and sexual abuse was constant, and so was the food control. McKay thought it was because Kolya wanted to keep him healthy -- he didn't have the slightest idea that it's a common brainwashing technique. I wouldn't be surprised if, when we finally get back there, the cupboards were all locked, too. I didn't get much time to look around the place when I was there," he added wryly. 

"Mm, the physical and sexual abuse I know about with access to the records and treating the worst of them," Carson replied as the University came into view. It worried that the Major seemed to be so familiar with those techniques. "The rest... well, it became very evident that I was out of my league. Did Kolya hurt him a great deal after our attempt to leave ?" 

There was the guilt. Failure had been a very high risk for them both. 

"I think so. I gave him some antibiotics and painkillers for a while. Kolya was already spiraling out of control, and it left McKay pretty skittish about anyone else trying to help him. It took a while to talk him into listening to me." And he had, apparently, because they were all alive this time, 

"Oh my god," Carson murmured to himself. "Oh Rodney..." He shook his head. "I hope someone has thanked you Major for whatever you have done. Evan was right, I was out of my depth." 

"I am usually right." Lorne replied as he followed signs towards the building where the defense was taking place. 

"I was almost out of my depth myself. The only reason McKay and I are both here is because I had the presence of mind to put a non-metal lock pick in a cut I had on my arm. The guy was *thorough*," John stressed, leaning forwards in his seat slightly. "Hey, there's a parking spot right there." 

Lorne pulled in and Carson had a sudden thought. "How are we going to get Waffle in there?" 

"You are not seriously taking the dog in?" Evan said as they parked. "I'm pretty sure they won't allow him in." 

"He's got to... he's the only thing that kept Rodney even remotely sane," Carson replied. If it were a choice between him or Waffle, he would've suggested Waffle go in for Rodney's sake. 

After all, he'd had Waffle since he was a little puppy. Rodney had mentioned another dog before Waffle, Willard. And the way he'd mentioned him, Carson had a suspicion that the dog had met an untimely, unhappy end. "We could pretend he's Carson's service dog," John offered as he popped his door open. "I'll help get the wheelchair out of the back." 

Carson brightened. "That's bloody brilliant." He chafed a little as he waited for Evan and the Major to get the wheelchair out. He hoped that Rodney was doing all right in there and Waffle seemed to sense they were about to move now and got up hopefully, trying to get out of the car. 

"No, no -- if you make a break for it and get hit by a car, I think Rodney will kill me himself, Waffle. You would have been proud, Carson. During everything Rodney hit Kolya over the head a few times with a history book. I always knew they were useful for something." 

That unexpectedly filled him with a surge of hope. "That's wonderful!" he replied enthused as he shifted himself very unsteadily to shuffle over to the wheelchair and got in with a sigh at how hard it was to just do that small action. "Good for Rodney." 

"Yeah. Hey, do you mind if I push you? That way I can use the handles back here to keep upright." John looked to Lorne, almost as if he was asking for permission, which was funny of him. Lorne was kneeling down to get a leash on Waffle, though. 

"If it helps, though I have a feeling that you should be in wheelchair as much as I should," Carson said watching as Evan managed to get the leash on Waffle who fortunately was abnormally well behaved once it was on. Another legacy of Kolya he suspected. "Let's go, otherwise we will miss all of it." 

He felt his chair roll forwards, and god knew where John got the strength to do that from. "As fast as we can. He'll be fine, though. I'm sure that this is something he can do on his own. But he doesn't have to now. 

"He's very capable, but his emotional state..." Carson felt he knew a lot about that having watched that emotional state gently crack open. "He needs support rather than help." 

But it was good to rely on someone else who thought that was a priority too. Evan was flanking them, with Waffle on a lead as they entered the building. There was a paper sign pointing them on to a room, and it fluttered lightly in the circulating heat of the building. The doors to the auditorium were mostly closed and opened with only a slight creak before John pushed him into the room. 

He could hear Rodney's voice, a little hesitant and not as free flowing as he remembered from when they sat by the lake only a few weeks previously and he had words tumbling from his mouth as if they had been pent up and had been released by his attention. 

He was struggling and it wasn't because he didn't know what he was doing. He needed to get this victory for himself, Carson realized. It was possible Rodney's recovery would hinge on what happened here. 

John stopped in the back, and then started to wheel him forwards a little further, carefully picking through the handfuls of Graduate students and professors. Someone saw Carson, and their eyes lit up a little. He'd been well liked at the university, because who didn't like a nice doctor? 

At least that was what he hoped. He wondered if they even knew what had happened to him. Probably not. "He needs to see us," he murmured to John, feeling guilty at making him exert more effort when he had been in hospital less than an hour before. 

Waffle trotted along, pulling at the leash the moment he smelled Rodney and heard his voice, giving a little hruff and then looking sheepish for making a noise when that was obviously Not Allowed. 

"Okay." John moved him forwards more, working them closer to the fore of the watchers. He could see Rodney. He looked pale, stretched thin. There was no question Rodney would pass his defense, but his voice was stilted, dead of passion. 

And then Carson could feel Rodney's eyes, could see him *look* at them, while Cowen asked him some question. 

"Uh, uh, could you repeat that?" 

He raised his hand and smiled encouragingly, knowing that Rodney had to see them, had to see him, John and Waffle with his lopsided bandage and tail wagging wildly. He hoped that would be enough but if he had to get up there to do this he would. 

"I said, your mathematical equations seem robust, but the application seems fantastical. You refer to energy output probabilities well beyond the normal scope of predicted variables. How can you justify this speculation?" 

The infamous generator. Oh yes, Carson remembered that. 

"If you'd been present for my engineering defense, you'd be aware that I have an answer to that. The generator system I've designed is just a base for future ways of creating small, nuclear based energy outputs. Clean energy, with small, self contained amounts of waste. It's not fantastical if you're willing to help develop all technology forwards with it." 

Cowan looked surprised even as one of his colleagues nodded. "It was most impressive. Fully functioning and totally portable. A complete conversion ratio Professor." 

That seemed to deflate Cowan a little. "Indeed. However, your application is focused on... stable wormhole theory which is impossible. It is impossible to simulate a blackhole and a whitehole energy vortex in the same space." 

Carson heard John murmur, "Idiot," from behind him. Rodney seemed to be a little more confident. 

"Why do you call it impossible? How is *anything* impossible? Beyond your understanding, perhaps, but if you read my dissertation, I'm fairly sure that I explained how it could be made possible. Hard, yes. *Very* hard. But science is not easy, is it?" 

"We know you have a distaste for space related projects," another Professor on the panel said to Cowan. "Which is why I am here. Your concern is the math. The math is robust yes?" 

"Well...yes..." Cowan had to admit that. "I would expect little else from McKay." 

"Then I suggest you leave the details of astrophysics to us," the man said and Carson had a feeling that he was called something like Robertson and well respected in his field. "Rodney, I am particularly interested in what you describe as wormhole dynamics... would you please elaborate on your salient points? The only criticism I had was that I felt you had more to say on the subject that was not included." 

"I actually excised it in an attempt to stay on topic. By itself, wormhole dynamics and theories on it in a viable form could fill many dissertations. The idea that people generally have of wormholes is of a constant event -- the old misconception of black holes leading to white holes, and I don't believe that." 

"You are saying this Mr. McKay and then talk of mechanism to fold space," an accented voice spoke up from the watching audience. "Yet equations do not resolve to complete stability? Yes? If you carry the figures through the equation will result in an inversion." 

Carson turned and looked around even as he heard Evan murmur "Zelenka? But..." 

"You think the SGC will take just our word on how smart he is? Zelenka is their expert after Sam Carter," John replied in a low voice 

"Won't risk her out here," Evan scoffed softly. "Damn." 

"Bullshit. I'll put them on the board right now if you want to question my work." 

"Go ahead." The wiry Czech scientist picked his way out of the audience walking down past them even as Rodney pulled over a whiteboard and started scribbling down equations rapidly. 

"This should be fun," John murmured. "Rodney has those equations figured tight." 

Carson was still worried though. He didn't know much about Zelenka, only that he was the one who warned them to run and knew of Kolya. 

It was causing a stir, especially when Zelenka took another marker pen and circled a section. "Here, inversion if values exceed the parameters of input. Equation fails." 

And most scientists Carson knew would have stopped right there and fumbled, and stared. Rodney twisted, glared at Zelenka, and took the pen from him. "Based on what? Who said I was even done? The whole risk of that is done away with if you wait for, oh, five more pieces." 

"So. Be showing me five more pieces," Zelenka said and folded his arms. 

There was a hush and a murmur as Rodney scribbled and John took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh boy..." 

"What? What is it?" Carson asked feeling out of his league. 

"That's new... that's *very* new." 

All around them an excited murmur grew in sound as some people started to realize that they weren't just seeing a defense but a whole new development in their area of study. Zelenka smiled and then took another pen and scribbled a sub equation above one of Rodney's lines. "Differentials," he said "...if they balance? Yes?" 

"They'll balance," Rodney told him, sounding snappish. His face was still pale, and he still didn't look steady enough to be up there. But John was leaning hard on the handles of Carson's wheelchair, so it was possible that all three of them could end up readmitted after it was done. "Here, I'll show it since you seem to need it..." 

What followed then was the equivalent of a rather bad-tempered, fiery and reasonably explosive mathematical ballet as the pair of them darted back and forwards to the board, Rodney waving his hands or stopping mid rant and snapping his fingers and then scribbling new fresh equations and Zelenka snarking back at him and adding in pieces here and there. 

Finally though, Rodney triumphantly underlined his solution. A solution much grander than the initial question had required and Zelenka looked at Rodney, caught his eye and smiled, nodding in acknowledgement of what they had done. He reached out a hand to shake his and Carson knew that had to be enough. 

"He needs to stop now," Carson said to John and Evan but people were actually applauding. "Get me over there, he's not strong enough to stay there more." 

"He's stronger than you think," John said softly. "He'll get over here. Just... hold on." 

Because the committee members were talking to Rodney, and offering to shake his hand. He needed to bask in that kind of accolade for a bit, too. 

Part of him knew that. Part of him recognized that the fact that people were taking pictures so they could say 'I was there when applied wormhole physics was born' was something that needed to happen. The other half was tired, in pain and very worried about Rodney and about the major. 

He waited until those formalities had taken place because there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that the defense had succeeded and then nudged Lorne. "Send Waffle in after him," he said quietly. It would give him an excuse. 

A reason to escape, because Rodney was looking stretched tight around the eyes from so many people there. Evan looked at him, and un-hooked the leash after a moment's thought. "Go on, guy." 

Waffle darted through the people, startling them, and barked when he was up on Rodney, winding against his legs. "Waffle! Hey, who's a good boy? Look at that ear bandage, you were so brave..." 

Waffle looked like he wanted to jump up but didn't and settled to licking Rodney's hand almost desperately. The way it made Rodney smile, made Carson go a little misty with emotion. He couldn't help it. Waffle whined at him, looking a bit wary of all the people there, trying to sit on his feet for comfort. 

And then Rodney crouched down, fingers ruffling through his fur. "Doctor Beckett and John brought you up here, huh? Let's go say hi to them, since they brought you home to me. Yeah, you're a good boy..." 

Waffle seemed eager to get back to them, leading Rodney towards where they waited. Carson was feeling overshadowed by the people moving around him but that was okay because things were hurting now and he was willing to bet John and Rodney were not that much better. 

He waited though, wanting Rodney to come to them. John had saved his life after all, and Carson had endangered it. 

It was a little like waiting for a dog to see which owner they preferred more. Rodney's eyes were lit up all over again, and he seemed startled all over again, stopping a little short of them. "Carson, I thought you were -- how are you, what're you doing here? John, I thought you were supposed to be in the hospital, you were a mess last night, you both..." 

"It's good to see you Rodney," Carson said deciding it really didn't matter just then because that was petty and ridiculous. "I woke up some time not long before yesterday. The moment I heard what happened, I forced Evan here to bring me and we found Major Sheppard making his own escape from the hospital with Waffle." 

Rodney looked from him to John, back to him, and then glanced at Evan -- and Evan probably gave a little wave -- before Rodney inched a little closer to them both. He looked good in the suit he was wearing, but uncomfortable at the same time. "So, uh. I think that was a success. Do you know who that guy was?" 

"Dr Radek Zelenka," John replied and he sounded like he was smiling a little. "Incidentally the man who warned us about Kolya and... I think you've just been head-hunted Rodney." 

"I'd be bloody surprised if he hadn't," Carson said, itching to touch him or comfort him somehow. At this rate he was going to have to attempt to stand for more than two seconds so he could do that. 

"Oh, you've been headhunted, I think," Evan scoffed quietly. Rodney twisted a little, looking over his shoulder for a moment, fingers tapping on his leg. 

"Huh. Okay, uh." He seemed closed off, as if he didn't quite know what to do, but he was *leaning* in towards them. "I can't believe I'm done." 

"I knew you could do it," Carson said and took a deep breath and pushed himself up to stand, then stepped very carefully to hug Rodney with a care for his injuries. "I'm so proud of you." 

Rodney whimpered, and then his arms crushed tight around Carson, face tucked down against Carson's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to get shot, I'm sorry..." 

Ah, so that had been the reason for the hesitation. He was blaming himself for that. "That wasn't you Rodney, that was one of Kolya's people, and my own stupidity. I'm sure Evan will be pleased to tell you that as frequently as he tells me." He held on, ignoring the discomfort. "It all going to be fine now. Admittedly, it took a little longer than I was planning, but even so... You are worth it to us. To all of us." 

"I don't understand." He stayed there, though, arms loosening and shifting, still holding Carson upright, face hidden against his neck and his shirt collar. He could feel Rodney breathe, faint puffs of air against his skin. 

"Well, we'll work on that," Carson murmured. "If we weren't in public and me being about to fall over I'd be kissing you right now." There was nothing he wanted more but there were pains making him want to double over and his legs were starting to shake. "We need to get out of here, and I suspect John is only held up by willpower and the handles on the wheelchair. And you are probably not much better." 

He nodded his head tightly, and shifted, and to Carson's surprise, lowered him back into the chair. "They don't need me here for this. They're socializing. I'm... We should go." 

John was uncharacteristically quiet, or perhaps he was concentrating too much on not passing out to add anything. "Would you both... I mean, do you wish to stay here or Evan will take us back to Colorado together. If that's what you want. I understand if either of you have other plans." It was just, he could see how much Rodney seemed to trust John and Rodney was going to need a lot of support. He was half hoping John was up for doing that. 

"I don't have plans. I'm, I'm done now. It's..." Rodney leaned over him, past him, and reached to hug John, too. "I just want to get some things from the house. There's probably things I need to straighten out, I don't know..." 

He wasn't sure but he was sure John murmured something to Rodney even as he tried to work out what to do next. He wasn't sure why he was but the others needed it. 

"You need to go back to a hospital," Evan said. "Or if you won't do that, you can get a nurse in." 

He was going to brook no arguments and Carson frowned a little. "Well there is my house here. There's plenty of room there even just renting. We could stay here a while, get a few things ironed out here and I know people at the clinic who will look us over. Then we could go back to Colorado." He had spare rooms. There had been a doctor with a family there before him and most likely they would employ someone like that again. He had no idea why he was being so practical, it just seemed to be something Rodney needed. 

Someone needed to be practical for him. He had trouble with those things that came naturally for all of them, and if Rodney needed someone to think of those things... 

"Can we do that?" Rodney pulled back, still awkward as he straightened his suit again. 

"I think we can swing it, " Lorne replied. "C'mon, the Major's gone several shades whiter since we've been talking and Carson you look not a lot different from when you were in the ICU and *Doctor* McKay here looks along the same line. Lets stagger back to the car and get you back somewhere and then I'll run whatever errands you want done okay?" 

"Evan, you are a prince among men," Carson said with a smile for his Patron. 

Evan half smiled. "Think you're confusing me with someone else. Sheppard you want me to push the chair?" 

"Yeah, I think you're gunna have to. C'mere, Rodney, we can help hold each other upright." He gestured vaguely, falling into line with Carson, gesturing Rodney close. It got him moving, and kept him between Carson's chair and John's body, tapping and making quiet noises that kept Waffle close without a leash. 

"Now I feel incredibly lazy," Carson murmured. John had stood when he wasn't well enough. He had enough spares of most things at his house, though no doubt anything he had food wise would be useless now. He wasn't sure if Evan would stay, or could stay, or if John was going to but all he could do was give the option. 

It seemed to take longer to get back to the car than it had to get into the building and people kept wanting to congratulate Rodney or speak to him and somewhere in the brief sojourn from the hall to the care, things got a little distant and vague. 

Enough to get Evan swearing at him and threatening to take him back to the hospital as they got back in the car. He waved him off. 

"I'm just a wee bit tired," he murmured. "I'm not in any danger." 

But Rodney was watching him, eyes soft and worried. "You should be resting. Both of you. You didn't have to be here... I appreciated it. It's good to see you both." 

"I think your long term memory is slipping, Rodney. You just saw me last night," John tsked quietly. "Here, let's get everyone in the car and call it a too exciting day." 

Carson found himself in full agreement with that sentiment and was just a little sorry that Evan had put him riding shotgun this time, and Rodney got the back seat with John and Waffle. He closed his eyes and smiled though. Whatever happened now, he was pretty sure Dr Rodney McKay was going to have a future. The future he'd always deserved.

* * *

He'd been ready to go back to his apartment, but then rather bizarrely Carson's suggestion that he stay seemed perfectly reasonable considering he had decided that his body was kicking his ass. 

His back was ridiculously painful now he that he had woken up from that nice drug haze, his knee was a wreck, his shoulder stiff with bruising, his ribs hurting like hell and the thing that he was finding hardest to block out was the sick deep pain in his ass from the shocks and the rape. There was damage up there, he'd had that explained and he'd just nodded and filed that away. It would heal eventually, like everything else. 

He was sprawled face down on a mattress on the floor and vaguely considered he might just stay there all day. 

It seemed logical, and reasonable, and Carson or Major Lorne didn't seem inclined to make him do otherwise. He wasn't sure where Rodney was in the house. It was a pretty big house, because while Carson was a patronee, he was still a Doctor. He could handle renting a place that big. If *he'd* known they'd gotten into town, Rodney could have stayed with them overnight instead of roughing it at John's apartment. 

It had been great to see the better part of his defense. 

Knowing how Rodney had been hurt the day before, it was all the more amazing to see him spark brilliance with Zelenka. John just didn't have that sort of mind. His solutions were wild and intuitive and the sort of thing that led him to unexpected, unprovable unless you counted the fact he was alive, sort of solutions. 

He saw how he looked at Carson though, and he couldn't blame him. Carson was a great guy. Barely out of the ICU and constantly worried about the both of them. They'd only met for the car journey and he trusted him enough to invite him into his home. 

Somewhere he had some painkillers the size of horse-pills. 

He had them, and he needed at least one. Maybe two. If one was somehow a fast-acting suppository that would speed relief back there, all the better for it. He kept thinking, though, that all of that stuff Kolya had, the chains and the electric ass plug, and the whip, he'd used it all on Rodney. And Rodney acted like he was okay, like he was fine. He'd stood up there and argued with Zelenka -- called bullshit at one of the SGC's best scientists and been *right* at the same time -- and then he'd slunk home and, yeah, he was somewhere in the house. He was probably in bed with Carson. 

John half sat up, pushed up on his arms, and blearily looked around. 

Waffle was watching him. Just sitting there with his head tilted, watching as if John was being particularly amazing by moving. Great... maybe he was trained to fetch painkillers. In some ways he really hoped Rodney was in Carson's bed. He deserved that much. 

He deserved the sweet guy, the mannerly doctor. He'd tried to escape with Carson in the first place, and if they had, Rodney probably would have been a lot straighter-headed than he was now. Not that it was John's fault, but he'd always be associated with Kolya's spiral of madness for Rodney. 

Waffle ruffed at John, and padded towards him. Yeah, he was a crappy guard dog. 

The dressing had pretty much fallen off his ear, and the floppy ear was notched, jagged and scabbed. "Hey Waffle. Anyone else up?" he asked hopefully. Like the dog would answer. Jesus, it was late. 

He wuffled again, and leaned up to nudge his nose against John's cheek. He wished the dog could talk, or fetch painkillers for him. Or both. He could try standing, he guessed, and checking things out for himself, but he didn't feel like poking around someone else's home. 

Okay, lying here was not going to be an option. He had to do something. He had been pretty tired, adrenalin keeping him going for weeks. Fuck it, he had to get *up*. 

Focusing he got to his knees then pushed up listening for signs of movement. 

Nothing really telling. No-one talking, definitely. But he could maybe find some painkillers and go pass out for a bit. Find something to eat. John was pretty sure that at the end of his recuperative leave time, he was supposed to be doing better than he'd been doing at the beginning of it. 

And then he heard the floorboard near the door creak, and there was Rodney. 

"Hey Rodney," he said moving stiffly and aware he was in boxers and a t-shirt that had seen better days. "Get some good rest?" 

His hair was mashed up on one side, and it looked like he'd borrowed someone's sweatshirt to go with his boxers. His boxers, John's. Okay, Rodney had taken a pair of his underwear while he was staying with him. "Yes and no. How're you?" 

"Yeah, pretty good," John replied. "So, what was the 'no' of the yes and no?" he asked as he stretched a little and winced. 

"Just..." Rodney leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, mouth pulled down. "I'm still wound up. I can't just sleep. And Carson isn't doing as good as he was pretending. Evan's in the bedroom right now trying to decide whether to call a doctor friend or an ambulance." 

"...crap." John grimaced. "I'm sure it's just he did a lot yesterday. He had a fair amount of surgery I guess and pneumonia from the lake. That's not something you shrug off easy. Let's go see how he's doing." 

The pills would wait. 

"He's sleeping." Rodney shifted slightly, and then walked towards him. "I thought you might need... something. I don't know. Company. I think Major Lorne is angry at me." 

"Rodney, this is *not* your fault okay?" John answered. It was more like Rodney needed company, and he could oblige with that. "You need to rest. Were you in with Carson last night?" 

"I'm not used to sleeping alone. Not usually." His voice sounded a little defensive. He'd probably already tried to 'justify' himself to Major Lorne, whether or not the man had asked for it. "I don't know. I don't know why any of you have done this." 

"Rodney..." John looked at him. "Carson loves you, you'd have to be blind not to see it. Even I can see it and I'm pretty emotionally ...backwards. Me? Started as a job and." Words dried up on him as he tried to work out what he was trying to say. "It became a lot more personal than that. For me." 

He hated feelings stuff. "I'm not going anywhere, so if it's gonna help I'm here. I want to know if Carson is okay, though, too. It was my idea to go to the defense. He thought you were still at the hospital." 

"You should both still be there." Yeah, well, and so should have Rodney, but they kicked people out of there as soon as their organs all proved to be functioning again and that was that. They'd kicked Rodney out with a handful of cards and he still seemed to have no idea of what he was doing. "I'll help you up." 

"I've been worse," John replied though right now, his body was saying he was lying. "Admittedly that was black ops stuff in Afghanistan and a couple of time I crashed. Not all of the times I crashed though." He gave a smile to Rodney. "Couple of pain pills and I'll be functioning okay. Have you taken yours this morning?" 

"Yeah. Well, I will. It's morning but it's not really morning yet. Sun's not all the way up." Rodney carefully helped John stand up, and nudged at Waffle with his shin. "C'mon, boy." 

Waffle trotted off ahead of them and John straightened. He really wanted to kiss Rodney. The job was over, but he really wanted that, even if it was one last time now he was back with Carson. 

"Rodney?" He stepped closer. 

"Mm?" Rodney barely made a noise at all, but he lifted his head. It was possibly the second easiest thing for Rodney to do -- the first being science and math, academics in general -- because he seemed to catch the hint, and leaned in to kiss John softly. 

He didn't push this time, just let it flow, gentle and sweet. It seemed to draw words to his lips that he knew he couldn't say because things were hard enough. 

_I love you_

They weren't words he could say, so he kissed instead and pulled away. 

Soft and easy, and almost sweet, and Rodney looked hypnotized as he leaned into John again, twisting a little awkwardly to lead the way out. "Maybe Major Lorne had decided something by now." 

"I'll go talk to him," John promised. "Especially if you can find some coffee around here." He grabbed his pills and dry swallowed much as Rodney always had. "Remember, you can help yourself to anything." 

"I know it in my head," Rodney murmured, "it's doing it that's... harder." But he let guiding John be turned into John taking control, before John even realized that that was just what he'd done all over again. He was sending Rodney off to get coffee and probably look for food while *he* went to talk to Lorne and check on Carson. And while for most people it would've been a suggestion, Rodney was probably taking it as an order, a denial that he could see Carson. 

Jesus, maybe he was going to make things worse by being here. You didn't go into the military without orders becoming part of daily life -- even if sometimes he chose to ignore them. "And you can say no as well, okay? To me, to Carson, any of us." It was a bit weak but that was all he had. "I'll be back in a moment." 

"Okay." And he stopped, watching John, standing out there in the hallway. Maybe he'd stick there, or maybe he'd wander off or maybe... Maybe John could try not worrying about him for a minute, while he saw if Rodney was just panicking without a reason. 

But he did need to know that Carson was okay, and that Lorne wasn't unjustly blaming Rodney for everything that happened to his patronage surrogate and friend. 

"Hey," he said quietly as he looked in the room. "How's he doing?" 

"Running a low fever." Lorne looked up, and really *looked* at him, before he inclined his head. "You look like you are, too." 

John shrugged a little trying not to wince. "Yeah, probably. So, I hear you're not sure whether to get a doctor in or call an ambulance?" 

Lorne looked worried and upset and John couldn't blame him. "I've got a friend coming in to check on him. I think he's just stretched himself thin, done too much, too fast. He doesn't seem to have any of the signs of internal bleeding, and his heart rate is good and steady." Lorne peered at him again, and John wanted to snap, wanted to ask what the guy's problem was. "This kind of thing isn't my expertise." 

"Yesterday was pushing it a bit," John replied. "He'll be okay. He's pretty tough. Got himself out of the car before I pulled him out the lake." He paused a little and then said, "Something wrong?" 

"Yeah. I hate not knowing what's going on. Okay, it's pretty obvious to me that Carson fell for McKay. Fine. He's got a thing for birds with broken wings, but I don't want him exhausting himself out of health trying to fix the guy. I don't want *you* doing it, either." 

John blinked a little. Well that wasn't what he expected. "Not much to tell. I got involved and I guess life and death forge connections. Strong ones. Carson... loves him. Rodney loves Carson." He felt the rest of it was self explanatory. "Rodney is special." 

"He's special because he's..." Lorne waved a hand slightly. "Look, you guys need to heal. You need to be in *bed*, resting. I can stick it out for a couple of days here, and I'd like to get everything cleaned up and us to be back in Colorado after that. All you need to do is get in an actual bed and sleep. I'll take the guest room mattress, all right? The General will have my ass if I bring you guys back half dead." 

John smirked a little sourly. "I don't think he gives a shit what state I come back in. After all he was the one that sent me in without back up. While I was on medical leave...or 'you fucked up' leave." 

"Like you could have gotten the job done *with* backup, Sheppard. Hell, like you even *work* with people on a mission like this." Lorne leaned and put the back of his hand on Carson's forehead. "Dammit. I meant it. Get back in bed." 

"Fine. I'm taking Rodney in with me though," John replied wondering when he got this lone operative reputation. "He won't sleep on his own and he thinks you're pissed at him." 

"Fine. Fine. Except I need to take him out later to sign some papers. Apparently that bastard *had* made him his de facto beneficent, and I want to get his things out of there. But it's not even 6am yet." Lorne stood up, stretching a little. He looked worn, worried. "Go back to bed and I'll come back with something for breakfast. What kind of diet are you up for?" 

John didn't want to answer because he was pretty sure Lorne might work out what it meant but there wasn't much choice. "Nothing solid," he said. "Don't worry about it. You don't have to chase around after me. Used to dealing with this sort of thing myself." 

"I'm not used to dealing with three people who think they're god-damned superman when they're not. So, get back to bed, take McKay and the dog with you, and I'll be up with something you can eat." 

"I'd salute but that would probably make things worse. I'm going. To take over your bed. With Rodney, with Waffle. And you can stop worrying." He was willing to bet, the doctor would be paying a visit to them not just Carson. 

And that was fine. Lorne wanted to run the show for a while and be the good officer, John was fine with that. Carson probably would have benefited with Rodney staying with *him* instead of John, but it was just for a couple of hours. "You leave whether I'm worrying or not, Sheppard. Go on. Get some rest." 

john felt there should be something uplifting he should say, but he just wasn't good like that. On the other hand, the lure of a proper bed was pretty strong. Especially with Rodney. Not that he particularly wanted or could do anything in particular, but it would help. 

He moved stiffly out towards the kitchen, looking for Rodney again. He expected to see Rodney when he walked into the kitchen, but he didn't see him immediately. He could *hear* Rodney, his voice low and soft, murmuring to Waffle, he guessed. John rounded the cooking island, and there was Rodney, crouched down. 

"Hey Rodney," he said in a low voice. "Lorne decided on the doctor route. Probably for all of us. You okay there?" 

"Sore. Is Carson okay?" He stayed crouching down, and twisted a little to look back at John. "Coffee's started." 

"Sleeping. Got a touch of a fever apparently, which I'd say was pretty much to be expected," John said. "You've probably got one, so've I. Lorne's feeling a bit protective and pretty much exasperated at all these people around him with no regard for their health. He'll be fine. Carson not Lorne. Lorne as well come to think about it." 

"Okay. He told me I shouldn't..." He waved one hand slightly. "We were just sleeping. I know you all think I'm a head case, but I do understand when it's appropriate and when it's not." 

"Yeah, I get that. Carson gets that. Lorne doesn't know you quite so well," John half smiled, because the pain killers were kicking in. "He's banishing me to his bed. I've got an invitation for you and Waffle to join me. If you want. The whole resting thing." 

"Okay. Is he coming down for the coffee?" Rodney slipped an arm around Waffle, like he was going to pick him up. But it was just a quick hug, and then he was standing again, and he managed a little laugh. "C'mon." 

"He said something about bringing something we can eat later. As far as I'm concerned coffee's about my limit," John replied smiling back at him. "I'm betting the bed is better than the mattress on the floor." 

"They're soft." Rodney patted his hip, calling Waffle to him with the gesture as he walked out of the kitchen. "I'm still trying to get used to this. All of this. That I don't have to make Acastus breakfast, for a start." 

"You don't have to come to bed if you don't want to," John replied moving a little easier now. "That's pretty much the point." 

Thank god they weren't going up stairs or anything. "Through here?" 

"I guess. I haven't explored much." Rodney started that way, though, so he had to have some inkling. He didn't bother to turn on the light, instead padding carefully towards the bed in the semi-dark. "I want to go back to bed. It's that or I can stand in the kitchen and wonder what's going to put me into an anxiety attack next." 

"You've had anxiety attacks?" John asked and headed over to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers. Lorne had made the bed before heading for his vigil by Carson's bedside. 

Rodney hovered, and then shifted to crawl underneath of the covers. "I'm not sure what to call them. I want to do things, I just... can't. Like, eat. I'm hungry. I know I should put food together for myself. It's, uh, just not happening." 

"Bit of a block or something," John eased himself in on his side. Marginally more comfortable than other positions. "I get that. Mindsets can be a bastard to shake. Lorne'll bring us something in a bit or I'll help out or something, but you'll crack it. It just takes time." 

"I guess. I just..." Rodney shrugged, turned on his side to face John in the bed. There was that hip-hitting gesture again, and Waffle scrabbled up to get onto the bed between them. "Don't know." 

"Yeah, well, I do," John replied looking at him. "Some of the longer term missions, or screw-ups as they are more commonly called, I've come back from in certain mindsets. It sort've erodes away little by little, then the whole lot comes down when you don't expect it." 

"Great." Rodney's eyebrows went up slowly, and he shifted, resting a hand on Waffle's fur. "It... I'm not used to talking in the house. I've never thought about that before." 

"Well, that's something we're working on right now," John replied even as Waffle rolled over a little and the tail wagged , twitching against his leg. "Mind you, I suck at this sort of thing. You should know that." 

"You seem to be doing okay," Rodney noted quietly. Yeah, he was doing okay by *Rodney's* standards of the word, which was pretty not high at all. 

He chuckled despite himself and patted over Waffle's fur until his fingers tangled with Rodney's. "No, no I really am spectacularly bad. There's a reason they send me out alone to do things." 

"What happened?" Maybe he could get Rodney to relax a little if he got a hold of the idea that he wasn't the only person who'd gone through shit and come out generally okay on the other side. Not that John thought his shit was anywhere near Rodney's, but it was all about trying to show Rodney that things got better. 

"Which time?" John shrugged slightly. "I'm good at what I do, I'm not good with people. Kinda avoidant but generally because they keep trying to kill me. That sort of thing has an impact. I love to fly so they'd send me places where getting shot down was 99% probable. And I kept making it home. Eventually." 

And Lorne probably saw this as a recruiting mission, so if he'd been in the room he probably would've hit John hard to shut him up. Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Why? Why did they send you those places?" 

"Because I have a famous or infamous father who inspires one of two reactions... Either I've got to prove I'm good enough, or they want me to prove I'm not," John answered quietly. "And, it's my job. Got pulled out of college to do it." 

"So this is... just another strange job." Rodney wasn't accusing, he just said it, and shifted his fingers, petting Waffle's fur and resting them on top of John's. "What Acastus did to you..." 

"Is not something I particularly want t talk about," John said. "And yeah, it started as a job. Call out of the blue, you're in the area go, go, go... You made it a lot more." 

"How many people did you kill? To get me out of this?" The questions seemed unconnected. 

"I did get some arrested," John said guiltily. "Uh, the ones who tried to kill me? " 

Yeah, most people were horrified when they realized who he really was, what he was capable of doing. The worse thing was that he didn't take pride in being a black ops agent. He hadn't chosen that, because he just wanted to fly. "Guess I'm not who you thought I was huh?" 

"You had red lines through all of their faces in your apartment. I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion there." Rodney's fingers shifted, and laid on the back of his hand, moving a little. 

John looked down. "I... had to kill some. Couple of missions out there went sour. Whole Soviet Patronage Mafia group going on and Kolya on friendly terms with most of them. That took the time." 

"They deserved it." Rodney's eyes were half-closed, and he shifted, used his free hand to pull the blankets up higher and closer. Waffle was still between them, heavy and warm. 

"I kinda thought so," John replied, trying to ignore the memory flash of things not exactly going smoothly. Muzzle flash, tumbling off that roof, running like hell from the car and then hunting them down in the dark. "After what happened to you and Carson. I like any lives I save to stay saved. " 

"We're all still alive." Rodney shifted, moved, squirmed, eyes still lazy, curling against Waffle instead of laying stretched out. "Killing murderers... not so bad." 

Probably not the healthiest attitude out there, but John wasn't sorry for doing his job. He was BlackOps, however reluctantly, and though he didn't like to kill he knew when he was in the zone he was a ruthless bastard. "Yeah. Yeah, well you know... I wanted you out of there." 

"You got me out of there. You saved Carson's life." Rodney gave a vaguely groggy shrug of his shoulders. "And you got hurt for it." 

"Done it for people I cared a lot less for," John replied. "But you're tired. Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere." 

"Okay." Rodney's voice slid low, and his fingers twisted a little over top of John's. "Wake me up when there's food. Or if Carson..." 

"I will, don't worry." John promised and meant it. Waffle was already sprawled out and tired. Food would be along soon, and for now no one had come along and chewed him out for screwing up. 

There was still time for that. But this right now might be all he would get of Rodney and he had to make it last. 

John knew how to make the most of something in his life before it got smart, took off and left.

* * *

He was wearing John's clothes again. 

He was wearing John's clothes because Carson's body shape was different than his and John's was closer even if he was broader in places, skinnier in others. His suit was too dressy to go back to the house to pack up, and that was okay. He liked to wear clothes that weren't his, because it was like carrying John and Carson with him. While he sat in the passenger seat car beside a complete stranger, driving back to the house where he'd lived for the past decade. 

He half didn't want to give the clothes back, but that type of thinking immediately gave him trouble. It made him very unsettled and anxious in general and he couldn't seem to shake it. 

And Lorne disturbed him as well, because... because he wasn't John or Carson. 

"Police have finished with the place," Lorne said, "taken what they needed for forensics. Bit of a formality with Sheppard's recording in play. Not like they can stop you from getting in as you are going to be the legal owner of the place." 

"I am?" He hadn't thought of that, of any of that, except for a brief spiteful moment in the suit store where he wanted to snap that he probably had more money than they did. 

"Yeah. Turns out that Kolya had written his will with the standard Patronage clause in it. In the event of there being no direct family - which there isn't, then it goes to his protÈgÈ at the time of his death." Lorne said. "Good job it was Sheppard that finished it not you otherwise that could've muddied the waters. So, you get house, contents and savings." 

Which translated to his keeping Waffle without question, and his laptop. And, there were a few other things, but... He'd have to see when he got there. "And the blood pool at the bottom of the steps." 

"They should've cleared that up," Lorne answered. "Look, you don't have to do this right now if you don't want to. I think John will kick my ass, confined to bed or not, if I bring you back hurt. And Carson... Carson knows every weak spot I've got - he'd make my life hell." 

Once he was no longer confined to bed. 

"He would," Rodney agreed, looking out the side window of Evan's car as they passed familiar houses and yards. "The sooner this is done, the sooner we can leave. What will they do with his body?" 

"Cremation and I believe there was some request about the ashes being returned to Russia," Lorne replied. "You don't need to worry about that Dr McKay." 

"Good." Good. He was conflicted enough about it to worry about what they were doing with Kolya's body. Because on one hand, yes, he knew cognitively that Kolya was a bastard and he'd used Rodney. But on the other hand, Rodney had all of those memories of good, quiet times that he couldn't dismiss out of hand. 

Lorne was silent a moment as the route became familiar as it led to the house. "Sorry if I came on a bit strong about Carson. He's been my... well, mine for some time. I know what he's like. Focus on everyone else first, and himself last." 

His. Lorne's. Rodney shifted in the seat, pressing his shoulder blades back against the seat of the car. "I know." 

"I was just worried that if you... did something, he'd just let you. Because he's fallen in love and he's the biggest romantic that's ever walked the Earth," Lorne smiled a little. Round the corner, up the road and there it was. The house. 

"Did something?" He didn't like that accusation, but it came out more muted than it would have if he hadn't just been hit with a wave of muddled emotions. Home. Home, it was home, but it wasn't, but it had been everything for *so* long. 

"Look, forget it, I've already had lectures from Carson and Sheppard. It was stupid. I just heard some about the abuse and made assumptions I shouldn't've." Lorne replied. "If you've got Shep on your side, that's a pretty good indicator of things." 

"I want to know what you assumed," Rodney demanded, but he kept his tone curbed back, where he wouldn't if the topic was something he was more comfortable with. 

"Okay I assumed you'd want to have sex with him or something," Lorne admitted. "Bear in mind, what we knew was based on reports that indicated sex was pretty much part of your existence." 

Which was true, but it made Rodney's jaw clench a little, made him shift in the seat while Lorne pulled to a stop behind Kolya's huge Ford SUV in the driveway, behind Rodney's worn second hand Civic. "It was. Has been. But that doesn't mean I don't understand when it's appropriate and when it isn't. He's hurt, it's my fault he was shot in the first place. I just want to be *near* him." 

"I know. I get that now," Lorne answered, sounding apologetic. "C'mon... I gave you the key didn't I? Let's go get what you need or want for now." 

"Clothes that aren't John's. Waffle's toys. My laptop." Rodney popped the door open, and looked a little longingly at his car. It was a *good* car... "We can sell the SUV, can't we?" 

"Your stuff Rodney, you can sell whatever you want," Lorne replied. "Or keep it. But if you're heading back to Colorado with us, I'm guessing selling is a good thing." 

The house seemed lifeless somehow from this angle, but the anxiety was growing. 

"Selling is good." Rodney reached into the pocket of John's jeans, and wandered up the walk to the steps, then up the steps. His hands were shaking by the time he keyed open the front door. He wasn't letting himself in to make supper. Acastus was dead. He wouldn't have to strip off as soon as he stepped in. 

The urge was there though. Ingrained and unbidden, he caught himself reaching to clutch at fabric. No, no, he wasn't going to... to do this. 

It was quiet in the house. No Waffle bouncing in to greet him. No messages up on the fridge door. The locked fridge door. The locked cupboards. 

He needed to find where his clothes were hidden away. 

One of the closets. But Acastus stored toys in them, too, toys Rodney wasn't allowed to handle on his own. He wandered into the kitchen, testing the locks idly. "Do you have a crowbar or something in the car?" 

"I'm sure I can find something," Lorne replied. "Back in a moment." And he headed out leaving him there, looking around at a place with far too many memories with his name on them. 

He had lived here for ten years and he found himself scared of the way just being in this building made him feel. 

It felt like coming home, but his stomach was in knots because he'd been breaking and shredding every rule that he'd ever lived by. He was taking food from other's hands and sleeping in the bed without permission, and dressed inside the house, and he was neglecting his duties, but... 

But Acastus was dead. He'd done that, too. Ten years, gone like that, smudged off the chalk board except the chalk board was ingrained with the marks. 

There were things that wouldn't loosen their grip and he was sure at some point John would be reassigned and sent wherever the hell suicide mission they thought he ought to do this time and he'd never see him again and Carson would... realize how fucked up he was and just walk away and then he'd be alone and lost. 

He knew he was intelligent but this fear in him was like living with a crippled limb or being some sort of emotional paraplegic. 

And maybe that was what he was. Maybe he was some kind of emotional cripple, because he had no idea of he was reacting and interacting with Carson and John in any way that was near to *right*. Carson was amazing and wonderful, and so was John, and he wanted to keep both of them close because they were such a contrast to Acastus. 

But it still didn't mean he was making the *right* decision. After all, Lorne expected him to be a complete... sex fiend, all twisted up in that, when he was really tangled up in things that he hadn't expected. 

Maybe he wasn't normal because John seemed to draw away from most touching after what happened, except maybe with him and he...didn't have that problem. He wanted more touching, more closeness, not less of it. And he had restrained himself, he really had. 

"Here we go. Raided the repair kit." Lorne brandished the crowbar. "So, what are we getting into?" 

"I want the locks off. Kitchen first." He needed to think logically and stay focused. He wanted to sell the house. A house with spoiled food in it wasn't going to sell, unless the buyers were rats and roaches. 

"I can do that," Lorne replied and confidently jimmied the padlocks off. "If you want we can just... identify some things you want packed up and we can get in someone to handle the sale of things and the house for you." 

"I think that's a... better idea." He was too at home in the house, too emotionally caught up in the place to be rational about selling it or Acastus's things. "Everything is locked. Closets, I mean. There are mousetraps set in his study, so I'd be careful when you go in there. I learned pretty quickly to not touch things." 

"Sheppard said something about him locking away your clothes. Any idea which closet they're in?" Lorne said as he expertly popped the locks off of cupboards. "We can take them back with us. Where's your own things?" 

"I don't have much. But they're upstairs." Rodney watched Lorne work. On the way out, he'd get Waffle's dog food. No sense in letting it go to waste. 

"Okay, let's go get that then... upstairs yeah?" Lorne said heading that way. Even he paused at the bottom of the stairs. "They're steeper than I thought. No wonder Sheppard's so knocked about." 

As if that hadn't been the least of things that had happened that day, 

As if they hadn't been whipped, as if Rodney hadn't *watched* Acastus whip Sheppard, and then fuck him on the heels of the electroprobe. Heels. Ass. Both, he supposed as he followed after Lorne. "I thought they'd both died." 

"Yeah, I can see why," Lorne said thoughtfully. "Sheppard's got a reputation... What happened to him? He just shrugs as if it wasn't much." He started up the stairs slowly as if measuring how far John had tumbled with Acastus. 

Fourteen steep, sharp edged steps that Rodney always walked on the edge of, careful to not make them creak under his toes. "Acastus tortured him. Whipped him, fucked him. Used his favorite electric toy on him." It was probably still out. There was an eerie feeling of a house in quiet limbo, as if time had stopped when Acastus had died. 

Lorne stopped on the landing, the concern evident. "He was raped as well? He said you were but he didn't say anything about him..." 

This seemed to horrify him more than the talk of torture, as if that was an occupational hazard. 

"He was raped. I watched." Rodney reiterated it quietly, and waited for Lorne to start walking again. He didn't think of himself as having been raped. It was, it was *normal*, and Acastus was punishing him, taking his pleasure from Rodney because Rodney wasn't doing his duty. Had started to do the opposite of his duty. 

"Jesus." Lorne exhaled. "Why the hell did he even attempt to come out of hospital so soon? He's only met Carson once and you two have only known each other for a few weeks.. how..." 

He seemed to be having difficulty with the concept. "This is where you all were?" 

Playroom. Rodney pushed the door open further, leaning past Lorne to do it. Everything... Everything was as it had been. Blood on the sheets, blood dried on the floor, his suspension cuffs still in place, and John's handcuffs the same. 

"Jesus." Lorne was surprisingly wide-eyed and looked at Rodney as if seeing him afresh. "It happened here?" 

"Right there. John was on the bed, and I was there." He pointed to the suspension cuffs that still hung there. It was easy to look at it and feel one step apart from it, somehow. Like it was him, but to. 

"How the hell did you get out of that?" Lorne asked and he did seem genuinely shocked as if Rodney's dire straits were suddenly very real to him and he could understand why Carson had taken the risk for him. 

"John had a lock pick in a wound in his wrist. He did it when Acastus left to walk Waffle." Rodney put a hand on the doorjamb, lingering. "I don't want anything out of there." 

Lorne shook his head. "That is one hell of a trick. Okay, where's your room? Let's get your things." He moved out of that room slowly and thoughtfully. 

"I don't have one. It's, it'll be in the master bedroom." That was where his laptop was, and he could find keys, find closets, for Lorne to break into for him. 

"Oh right." Lorne headed into the rather opulent looking room, frowning a little as he saw the blanket on the floor at the base of the bed. "What's this?" 

"Where I slept, if I wasn't sleeping with Waffle downstairs." Rodney walked past that, towards the desk he had in the corner of the room. 

He thought he heard a muttered oath but Lorne turned away, hefting the bar he had with him as if he really wanted to hit someone with it. "Did Carson know about all this?" 

"Yes." More than John knew. He'd talked with Carson, confessed things to him that he was trying to not think about now. He picked up one of his older, slightly worn book bags, and started to shove his texts and notes into it. 

"I think I owe him an apology," Lorne replied. "I thought he went back for you because he was trying to prove something - he was always doing that one way or another. But if he knew, he's right, there's nothing anyone could do if they had an ounce of feeling or a scrap of conscience." 

He worked his way around the room, snapping off the various locks. 

"Just... grab what you can of my clothes." He was busier trying to get his notes and books into the first book bag, knowing he'd have to find another way to carry the rest. 

"There any sort of bag around here or... ah..." Lorne pulled out a hold all, and emptied out contents, before pretty much stripping out the clothes in the wardrobe. "Not much here that is yours, assuming this is all yours." 

"That's all, I think." Rodney leaned a little, and nodded as he looked at that one space. "Acastus liked me to look good." 

"Yeah, well these are more fitted than the stuff you borrowed," Lorne said, hunting out underwear and socks as well, and dumping them in another bag, then shoes as well. The sad thing was that it pretty much fitted into two large bags. "No... personal stuff?" 

"What do you mean by 'personal stuff'?" Rodney asked, picking up another book. 

"...things? Bits and pieces people have given you? Posters, keepsakes. That kinda stuff?" Lorne suggested as he lifted the bags. 

"I have a few, but they're in my office. At the university. I don't have..." Rodney waved one hand a little, and gestured Lorne over. "Two books left and I'm out of room. I don't have a lot." 

"Let me see if I can find another bag," Lorne said and then hauled out another and tipped it out. A selection of collars and leashes tumbled out along with dog toys that were evidentially not to be had by actual dogs. "Oh." 

Rodney watched them fall out onto the floor, and he couldn't quite be ashamed. Not quite, because that was how he'd lived his life for a very long time. And it was hard to shake the nostalgic twinge, because he'd had some good times with those collars, the leashes. 

Lorne was watching him. "You want to take these?" he said eventually, obviously picking up on something in his expression. "It's all yours now. To decid what to do with it." 

"I know, but... I don't know how Carson would react." Or John. Rodney zipped closed the bag of books he had, and got closer to Lorne, holding the two loose books out for him. 

Lorne shrugged. "Carson is less likely to be shocked by that than you'd think and Shep..." He hesitated. "I don't think he'll judge you for anything. If even have the rumors are true he's done pretty much something of everything. Might just be talk, but I'm pretty sure he's had a clearer idea than most of how things were going for you." 

But Rodney still hesitated, because Carson and John had made it pretty clear how much they'd thought of his way of living before they got involved. And even if they were right, which they were... "I'll just, uh, let me find my favorite two." 

"I'll take this stuff down to the car. Take your time," Lorne replied as he picked up the bags and headed out of the door. "And don't forget to see if there are any things here you particularly like. He's got some nice art stuff kicking around. My Mom was a war artist -- some of the things you have here are excellent pieces." 

He hadn't thought of that. Hadn't crossed his mind at all, but it had been his home, too, and there were things he was *used* to seeing. It wasn't all... tainted. Rodney crouched down on the floor, and carefully started to sift through the collars and leashes. He could mark somehow things that he wanted shipped to him, and the rest to be sold. He could do *that*. 

Somewhere along the line, Lorne took everything else out to the car. He then busied himself while Rodney was choosing things by doing necessary things like getting rid of the contents of the fridge, putting out the garbage, packing up Waffle's dog food and his brushes, wormer and everything a healthy dog needed. Dog, dog, not puppy.

He also liberated some sticky memos from the study and handed them to Rodney so he could go around the house putting them on things he might want. 

It was all very logical of him, while Rodney was the one getting caught up in the place, in the vague feeling of being *home* again. There was sadness and comfort there in equal parts, and no way he could have lived there for so long without missing the place at least a little. A lot of the paintings, and even one lamp, were things he wanted. The computers, too, because logically he could take Acastus's computers apart and rework them for himself. Make use of the space. 

"I think... His historical research. I want to donate it to the university. A lot of it was very..." Rodney shrugged as he explained it to Lorne. "Unique." 

"That I can imagine," Lorne said dryly. "He was a pretty unique guy... in a sadistic way. You ready to go? Carson will be having kittens, and I kinda left John 'guarding' him. I'm not sure how literally he's going to take that." 

He felt a little better for having worked to clear all of that up, to organize the aftermath of the house a little. Rodney had gotten to choose things that he wanted, decline things he never wanted a part in, and Lorne hadn't made him dig through the playroom to look at anything, which was fine. 

If he ever got a crazy urge for suspension cuffs, he could buy his own. 

"We'll get a company in to pack the place up," Lorne suggested. "I don't think any of you guys are in any state to be doing heavy lifting. " He was heading back towards the door again. "I'd kill for a coffee. You want to stop and pick something up for all of us on the way back?" 

"Yeah. Where does... do you remember where Carson used to go for coffee? They had really good coffee there, where-ever it was." Java-something, but he was pretty sure that all coffee shops were called Java something. 

"He's dragged me there a couple of times when I came down to visit," Lorne replied. "I'll get us there, you get to choose. I can never remember the latte chocolate mocha whatever. And I have no idea what John likes." 

"Spice-flavors." While Rodney has a weakness for anything if it was sweet and tasted like forbidden pleasure. Rodney shifted the bags he was carrying, and gestured with his head for Lorne to lead the way out. 

He was good at remembering details like that, as Kolya expected... had expected him to know his preferences inside and out without prompting. It had become second nature to him. Perhaps it would be one thing he would manage to do right. 

He could at least bring them coffee in a functional manner. And Lorne would help, but eventually he'd have to get used to things like ordering food. As long as he looked at it like a challenge, Rodney guessed he'd manage. 

Everything was a challenge now.

* * *

"I am not a bloody invalid John," Carson said as he was caught by the other man following his attempt to get to the bathroom and back under his own steam. He was quite proud of the fact he managed it alone. "Did Evan start telling you about his plan to tie me to the bed or something? 

He was the medical doctor here. He knew what he was doing better than anyone, even if Lee from the Clinic has spent a horrified half hour berating him this morning. And then coming in looking grave after seeing to John and not saying *why * which was very unfair considering he was John's doctor too. At least he considered that he was. 

He was there in the same house with him, and that was half the battle, getting to *see* him. 

"Actually, yeah. He left a clothes line out in the hallway in case I needed it," John deadpanned. He was standing in the doorway like he was doing the frame of it a favor by being there, leaning one shoulder against it. 

"Aye well, don't think it hasn't been tried before," Carson said. "The house is in no danger of falling down so stop propping it up and come in and sit or... lie down or something. Evan left you to watchdog me didn't he?" 

"I was left strict instructions to not allow you to do anything stupid." So, that was a yes. He stayed in the doorway, too, infuriatingly, but shifted a little like he was thinking of coming closer. 

"Oh really? Considering you are not in that much better shape than I am, how will you know what 'stupid' is?" Carson said easing himself onto the bed again. "Look, standing up hurts you and your back. Come over here. Lie down or something. I am a doctor you know." 

"A doctor who had himself released from a hospital two days after getting out of a coma." John's eyebrows went up, but he did start after Carson. "Not sure what kind of sound medical advice I might get, you know?" 

"That was... special circumstances," Carson replied. "A bit of discomfort for Rodney's sake. Nothing serious, but to him very important. You're a fine one to talk. You had already had yourself released as well." 

"Hey, I was worried about him. He was all glassy eyed at the idea of trying to work out what to do." Carson settled in while John talked, and stood close enough to hover. 

"The world is a confusing place even if you have experience of dealing with it. Rodney doesn't," Carson replied. "And for god's sake just... sit on the bed or something. You shouldn't have weight on your knee." 

"It's not my knee that's bothering me." John didn't sit down on the bed, so much as he leaned on it, weight on one hip, a hand on the mattress supporting himself. He'd probably feel better laying down. "I know he doesn't. That's why I wanted to try to get out to help him." 

"Well you did, and you have and reading between the lines from when I was in the land of nod, I'm taking it things have gotten a little complicated between you two?" Carson said and patted the bed encouragingly, moving over. He wanted John to talk about this before Rodney got back. Clear up a few things. 

Work with him. Rodney needed more help in life than Carson suspected he could give him by himself. "You could call it that." John moved, shifted to stretch out beside Carson. 

"This is the point where you could tell me how it is complicated and we could try the whole talking thing," Carson said a little distracted because John was indecently good looking and stretched out like some sort of porn star next to him on the bed. With clothes on, obviously but even so, that somehow made it worse. 

It left a lot to Carson's imagination, and he was fairly sure that his imagination was vivid. Carson wasn't ashamed in the least by his sexual preferences, and John was most gay men's wet dreams. "Kolya wanted him to seduce me, and I needed the time stall while I worked on eliminating Kolya's contingency plans." 

"So you played along," Carson surmised. "And did it stop being playing after a while?" 

How long had it been after Rodney went from being part of the job for him to being someone to risk his life for, a cause, a reason and more. It surprised him how easily he had fallen for him, so he was not going to judge Sheppard if that happened to him too 

"Yeah." John cleared his throat slightly. "You don't have to worry, Doctor Beckett. I know he has a good thing with you. You're good for him. You'll know what you're doing. I just appreciate that you're letting me stay here." 

"Ah, see now I had a feeling you were going to say that," Carson said. "Lets get something straight John, I want you to tell me how in love you are with Rodney, assuming you are, of course." 

John was looking towards the ceiling. "Do you want the honest answer to that?" 

"Yes John, I really do," Carson replied softly. "I'm not playing around here." 

"He's amazing. He's intelligent and witty, and kisses like you wouldn't believe. Yeah. I've fallen in love with him, I think. As much as I can." 

Carson nodded. "Aye, he's hard to like but easy to love," he said. He contemplated a moment looking up at the ceiling as well. "What do you think about me?" 

"Haven't known you for very long. You're an upstanding guy, though. And Rodney generally has good taste in people, if you don't count Kolya." 

"That was pretty much forced upon him," Carson replied. He took a deep breath. "I'll tell the truth John, I don't intend to let him go. I love him. But because I love him, I'm pretty okay with the idea of doing what's best for him. What's best for him is having you around as well. You need to have a feel for people in my line of work and you have something Rodney needs. Something I can't give him because it's just not in my nature. Does that make sense?" 

"Sometimes he's going to need someone to tell him what to do. In a way you can't question." John shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I don't know what else I can offer but that." 

Carson twisted to looked at him. "I haven't known you that long John but I already know there's a lot more to you than that. I was thinking of the fact he will always associate you with protection and rescue. Safety... I could talk all day at him for the rest of his life but if he doesn't have those feelings it will never work." 

John's eyes were still tilted towards the ceiling, as if he was unaware of Carson's watchful gaze. "Have any idea where to start with him?" 

"Some," Carson admitted. "John, I want you to stay. I want it to be all of us together because I think it will work. It's just an idea and I know you might be uncomfortable with it. Evan was telling me that you work alone normally and, uh..." He trailed off a little, wondering how ridiculous the idea sounded. 

"Yeah. That's a rumor that I can't shake. You get labeled with the tag of a loner, and suddenly all of your missions are one way suicide trips," John muttered. He shifted, and folded his arms behind his head, like he was getting comfortable. 

"So, the three of us wouldn't be a problem?" Carson asked and frowned a little. "I don't like the sound of these one-way suicide trips John..." 

"Hey, I'm not dead yet, am I?" John smiled up at the ceiling. "This one was a success." 

"If you call being tortured and nearly killed a success," Carson said and almost immediately realized that the sad thing was that John really did see getting out alive as a 'bonus' rather than something normal. He found himself patting gently at John's chest and saying. "And that's three times you've avoided the question." 

"What was the question?" There was enough of an amused tone that Carson decided John was avoiding answering on purpose. 

"Whether you will consider staying with Rodney and myself... not just here but at Colorado," Carson replied patiently. "You can just say no, you know. If you're not interested and I've read this all wrong which is possible considering the drug cocktail I'm on." 

"I might as well. We're all in the same program, right?" John finally turned to look at him, but his face was hard to read. 

Carson was about to say 'Don't force yourself' when he stopped himself. This would be hard enough for someone who was used to relationships. Neither Rodney or John fitted into that category. "Right. They might actually allow me to finish up on my genetic work when I recover, as I did most of the research while I was here." 

His hand was still resting on John's chest and there was just something about the way John was holding himself and reacting that was triggering alarm bells in his head. "...John? Are you all right?" 

The 'Yeah' he gave sounded distant, a little strained, and John shifted, turned his head to look towards the ceiling. "What do you think Lorne's doing with Rodney?" 

"Organizing," Carson replied, frowning just a little. "He's pretty good like that. That was one lesson he learned pretty quickly when I was his surrogate. Does this evading thing work on most people? Because you're not all right are you?" 

"I'm trying to not think too hard. Pain meds have started to wear off and I'm not due for another dose for an hour or so." John shifted his hand, just one, and laid it on top of Carson's, as if to tell him that *that* wasn't the problem. Eve if it possibly was. 

It surprised him a little but he was pleased in some respects. "If it is bad, we can see about getting it adjusted. We doctors tend to err on the side of caution with pain meds sometimes. But I don't think anyone wants to see you in pain John." 

"There's a certain amount of it that only time can take care of." John cleared his throat slightly, and he jerked bodily when they both heard the front door being opened 

"That's Evan," Carson murmured even as they heard the skittering of Waffle waking himself up and bouncing to the door hruffing quietly. "Stay here John. We've got one watch dog on the case." 

"I broke into his house, and he sat there and made happy noises at me, Carson. I wouldn't set Waffle to guarding anything," John murmured, but he didn't get up. 

"If you broke into my house I'd probably sit and make happy noises too," Carson said with a grin at him even as he could hear Rodney fussing over Waffle. 

"Carson?" Evan really was going to have to relax a little. 

"We're in here Evan," he called out. 

"Safe and sound. Resting, too!" John called back. Carson was under the sheets and John was lolling on top, completely dressed but still able to make Carson's brain tick along hopefully. 

"Good! Hey, we stopped and got you guys coffee and uh, McKay got some brownies. Are you up to eating?" 

"I could probably manage a little..." Carson said, thinking that it might work if he made sure it was liberally mushed up with coffee. The coffee sounded wonderful. "John?" 

"Yeah, sure. Might have to dissolve it in the coffee..." John sat up a little, carefully, and he carefully set Carson's hand to the side. He could hear Waffle racing up the stairs, and then a stop, a half race back down and happy yapping the rest of the way back up. 

"Okay, I have coffee, bowls -- I think Lorne found the place you used to go, Carson. It smelled amazing..." 

Carson tried not to frown a little. He had a sudden horrifying certainty that he knew that John hadn't just experienced the whipping as the torture or effects from the brutal fight. And with that knowledge he would've *never* encouraged him to leave hospital. 

"We spent some time in there," Evan said as they came into the room. His eyebrows went up a little at the cozy scene, but he didn't comment. "We nearly came back with half the place." 

"I bet." John grinned, and waved a little at Rodney as he came in, juggling the drink carrier of coffee, and a bag of what had to be pastries under his arm. 

"So what did we get?" Carson asked beckoning them to have a seat. "And how did you get on?" 

He looked for clues from the both of them. 

Lorne seemed tired, depressed, but Rodney was wound up, smiling from ear to ear as he passed out the coffee. "Just fine. I have a couple of bags of things, marked some things I want to keep... Oh, and we brought Waffle's food." 

"That's great," Carson replied with a smile. "Thank you for the coffee Rodney. It was very kind of you." 

"Yeah, thanks." John said picking up his cup and sipping at it. "It's good." 

"You're lucky he didn't drink it all," Lorne teased, holding out bowls to them. "Here, I figured you guys can't eat a brownie like Rodney can." 

"Evan, have I told you recently that I appreciate how wonderful you are?" Carson said extravagantly. He made it light, but he meant it. He knew Evan felt guilty over the fact it was his family that had assigned him to the university with minimal back up and they hadn't move quickly enough to stop him nearly being killed. 

"Not that I recall," Lorne said. "You should be able to manage that." 

Carson hesitated a moment and then decided to go ahead. "Come and sit down Rodney, I want to hear about it." He wanted Rodney to get used to the facts he made decisions, remember that he had made them and it would do him good. If John wanted to stay then that was great, if he didn't or Evan didn't that was fine too. 

But he wanted Rodney to have some time to process what he'd been doing. 

Rodney seemed to stuff half the brownie in his mouth, chewing carefully before he washed it down with swigs of coffee. That couldn't be healthy for him, but. "Oh, uh, well, I think most of the house should just be sold." 

"Well, if you are going to get an offer from Colorado, then you will be moving anyway," Carson replied. "So that is very sensible Rodney. You will certainly have money to do what you want." 

"I hadn't thought about the money until Evan mentioned it. That it was mine." Rodney shrugged his shoulders, and swallowed again, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was close, and Evan pulled a chair up because what better place to turn into a living room but a king sized bed? 

Carson shifted a little over, incidentally in towards John, apologizing as he got very close. The other man was looking a bit pale and he realized he hadn't been joking about the pain meds. Maybe that was why he was so quiet. "Well it is. We'll make sure it gets sent to a personal bank account Rodney. And get an estate agent..." He paused a moment trying to translate that to 'American'," A realtor to deal with the house as well." 

John dropped his brownie into the bowl Evan had handed over and poured his chocolate smelling coffee over top of it. Rodney watched, and seemed to approve, even if John was quiet. "I just want it sold." 

"Tomorrow you can maybe phone some places and get it cleaned through, unless the authorities did it?" Carson asked. 

"That's something they definitely didn't do," Evan said. 

"It was..." Rodney waved his coffee cup slightly, and crumbs landed on the bed beside John. "Bloody, still. It was like it had just happened." 

"Except that it's been a few days, and he's dead," John spoke up. 

"Aye, seems longer," Carson added glancing at John. Not the most subtle broaching of subject but he was glad of it. Rodney was going to have difficulty accepting Kolya was really gone. It was one reason he had asked Evan to take him to the house again. 

"It does. And it doesn't." Rodney sat, shifted, and finally tucked one leg under him. "The whole time I was there, I kept waiting for him to show up." 

"It must be difficult to accept," Carson said softly. "He had such a hold on you even in his physical absence it must be hard to believe he is really gone." 

"He's really gone," John added. "You don't get much uh, more gone." 

"I know. I know. It's just..." Rodney waved his coffee cup vaguely. There couldn't have been a third of it left in the see-through paper cup, and he looked vaguely green around the gills like he didn't know how to slow down or stop. 

"I think you need to have a bit of a rest as well Rodney," Carson said. "It's been a busy morning for you and you're not recovered either. And too much rich food is not something you are used to... " 

"That's a shame." Rodney patted his side, over ribs that were too visible for Carson's tastes, even wearing borrowed clothes. Rodney needed an opportunity to fill out, but not just on brownies. "It's very good. And it *was* a busy morning." 

"Just stop before you feel sick, okay?" Carson said smiling a little. He had a feeling food was going to become a source of comfort and fascination for Rodney and they would have to steer him gently to manage it well. "Perhaps you can try... what haven't you tried yet?" 

"Uh, we've got some cheese bread downstairs that I've been eating since you guys have been mostly soup-only. It's pretty good if you toast it," Evan offered, eyeing them all. "I can put what's left of your brownie in the fridge for you, McKay." 

That seemed to get Rodney to settle with the idea, because he leaned to put his coffee to the side, and held the brownie out in offering. "Okay. Thanks." 

"Have it later if you are feeling peckish," Carson said. "I'm pretty sure all of us have over indulged somewhere along the line." 

"Only if you count Ferris wheels," John murmured from beside him. 

"They still have those?" Carson could see John lean up slightly, staring at Rodney as he put a piece of coffee-sopped brownie in his mouth. 

"You're kidding. They're not ancient history, Rodney." 

"They have a pretty good amusement park not far from Cheyenne. A lot of the staff with kids take them there on leave," Lorne added. 

"They do? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Carson asked wondering what else he missed out on. 

It was funny, that it felt like *now* he was being accepted into the bizarre family unit that was the SGC. It left Carson wondering if almost dying in the line of duty was a requisite to really belonging. "Huh." Rodney leaned a little, and then shifted to rest one shoulder on the headboard. "We should do that sometime." 

"When we move out there," Carson said casually, dropping the plural into the conversation as if it wasn't an issue. 

He could hear John snort softly, even as Evan left the room in search of slightly more healthy food for Rodney's consumption. "When we..." Rodney echoed it halfway, and then stared at Carson. "When we move out there. We're really doing that?" 

"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to," Carson said looking back at him. "But as it is pretty much a dead cert you will be offered a job at Cheyenne from how you impressed Dr Zelenka, we'll most likely be working in the same command. Of course you don't have to move there if you don't want to or take the job. "

"I want to. That..." Rodney shifted, looking at both of them now. "Doctor Zelenka, the one from my defense? I've never had anyone demand something like that of me and know what they're talking about." 

"And you had him chasing after your equations," John said. "Even considering everything, he was hard pushed to keep up with you Rodney." 

"Aye, what he said. You're good Rodney, more than good. You're brilliant and Zelenka is only one of those who work on such things. But one of the best I hear," Carson added, gently stoking up Rodney's ego. 

The edge of Rodney's mouth twitched up a little. "I want to work in a place like that. There's no reason I'd say no to an opportunity like that, and if I can stay with you..." 

"It wouldn't be just 'staying' Rodney," Carson said and looked at John as well. "It would be living there, in partnership with myself and ...John." He looked over at John hoping he would back him up. 

"Yeah." John cleared his throat slightly. "If you don't mind." 

"Mind? Why would I *mind*? You, Carson and you, you're the best things to ever happen to me..." 

"I think John was a little concerned there might be some issues with there being three of us and Waffle of course," Carson said. "You are okay with all of that?" 

"Should I not be okay with it? Why would I have a problem with you both?" There were a hundred different reasons that Carson could think of, but were they real, or were they projections of his own expectations about Rodney's problems? 

"I'm just being cautious," Carson said. "Why don't you just lie down here and make yourself comfortable?" 

Maybe it was a little like mushing things together in the hope it would stick, but it would be a barrier they would've already crossed should it come to that. John was more complex than he had anticipated. Getting him to agree to stay had been easier than he thought but there was something very strange going on there in his head, and he needed to know him a little better before he got a handle on him. Himself? He was an open book if anyone bothered to try reading him. But he guessed he didn't have a decent front cover or exciting blurb because no one even really tried. 

Rodney shifted, squirmed down to lay beside Carson, close against his side. "I decided that the university should have Acastus's books and research." 

It felt easy and natural to just reach an arm around him, because he was tired too, but he did want to hear what Rodney had to say. "I'm sure they will put them to good use," Carson said, privately wondering if they would just burn them once it came out that Professor Kolya had been an abusive murderer. But it was good because Rodney had made that decision himself. "You collected your own?" 

"They're in the living room. It two big bags, and there's two more with my clothes." Rodney shifted, like liquid, and slid an arm over Carson's middle, sighing quietly. He liked to seek comfort physically, too. 

"Good. Maybe John can have his back to keep him going for a while. Otherwise we'll be sending Evan out on a yet another mission," Carson replied lightly. "Poor lad... I'm going to owe him a serious favor for all this running around he is doing." 

"I still almost don't believe he's your patron," Rodney mused quietly. "What about you, John?" 

"Hmm?" John looked across him to Rodney. "What about me?" he asked as if he had been half focusing on the conversation. 

He sounded sleepy, dazed, maybe. "Did you have a patron like Carson's?" 

"Heh. No. Didn't have one," John replied. "Just... my father." There was something in the way he said father that made Carson's instincts prickle. 

"You didn't need one?" Carson probed. 

"No son of General John Sheppard should need anyone's help to succeed in the military," John replied dryly. "No Patron, no... surrogate, enforced targets that meant I was very familiar with the punishment square." He gave a shrug. 

That wasn't how the world worked. John should have had a surrogate, like Evan had, a whipping boy, who helped round him out. Ideally, everyone benefited from the system, and Carson knew that he and Evan had. John could have used that kind of support, and someone like Rodney would have helped. "Why?" 

"Why was I familiar with the punishment square? Because perfect targets are for perfect people," John replied looking up at the ceiling. "He has a career mapped out for me. So far it has involved 'opportunities' that couldn't be missed and I have to prove myself over and over. My masters wasn't one of those things that was necessary so it got pulled before I submitted the final project." 

He sounded like he didn't care, but Carson was a little shocked. The Sheppard family was a distinguished military family. He knew Evan talked of tripping over privileged cousins with everything going in their favor and it seemed strange that the son of the General wasn't accorded the same treatment. He knew people assumed a lot of different things about John and he was beginning to wonder if any of them were even remotely right. 

"I looked over that work," Rodney murmured, leaning up to peer at John over Carson's reclined body. "That was *good* solid theory." 

"There was a mission. A pilot was needed," John said simply. "Dad boiled it down to a choice of whether I was willing to let seven people die because I wanted to get a piece of paper." 

"But that's emotional blackmail," Carson put in unable to stay quiet. "He shouldn't put you in that position." 

John just smiled as if that was a joke and said. "Five of them lived." 

Rodney shifted, stretched his arm over Carson to grab at John's arm with his fingers. "Can I meet him?" 

"Can't see why you'd want to," John said. "Anyway, it's not going to change anything. And he's not talking to me. I fucked up in Afghanistan according to him. And most people." 

"Because you, what, only *halfway* accomplished the impossible? I just want to meet him so I can punch him, because your thesis was *really good*. And by really good, I mean it's useful and still theoretical, and only partially based on previous research, because if I read one more general summary of other's work that led no-where in particular, I was very close to killing a student." 

Carson chuckled a little. "Rodney, you're not going to punch John's father." 

"I'd like to see him try," John said hopefully. 

"You're not helping John," Carson pointed out. 

"I *want* to. You don't just... stop research like that because you decide someone else has something better to do. Even... Even Acastus let me do my research." As if he was somehow casting John's father in a worse light than Kolya. 

"Rodney, my father didn't exactly physically abuse me," John pointed out. "He just has high expectations. And I'm too damn lazy to fight them." Lazy was not a word he'd ever use to describe the Major. Not having heard Evan report some things back to him. 

"You're going to start fighting them," Rodney grumped, sitting back down. But his arm was still stretched over Carson, fingers half holding onto John's arm. 

"Hey, do you three old ladies want cheese toast? Carson? John?" 

"I might manage a little," Carson called back. "Could you bring in John's painkillers? It's about time for them I think." 

"Only if it's pureed," John replied. "So, uh probably no." 

"Soak it in milk?" Rodney suggested. That was a little too creative of him to suggest. "Thank you, Lorne!" Rodney yelling back the answer seemed to be enough to get Waffle's attention, because Carson could hear the click click of paws coming towards them. 

Waffle poked his head around the door and seemed very happy to see them all in one place together, his tail wagging as he approached the bed and nosed at Rodney hopefully, somehow communicating a desperate desire for them to break the rules together and *both* be on the bed. 

"If you want him up here, we might as well make it the full set," Carson suggested. "No lying on any injured parts though." 

"I hope the bed's sturdy." Rodney shifted, let go of John and Carson, and gestured to Waffle to get up onto the bed. "Yeah, c'mon, boy. No-one's gunna get angry about this. C'mon!" 

Waffle looked at him in a transparently fearful longing, glancing nervously to the door and then back and then repeating the movement while whining. 

"Here, Waffle." Carson tried and the dog pricked up his ears. It took some more encouragement from Rodney but eventually, rather furtively he jumped up on the bed. 

"He wasn't this nervy about it when he came in with us," John remarked as Waffle found a spot to curl into. 

"Bedroom was smaller," Rodney pointed out softly. He stretched, and toed off his borrowed sneakers, letting them hit the floor. "This is clearly the master bedroom. That was a no. If I was in the master bedroom, then Acastus didn't want Waffle on the bed." 

"I have the Alpha bed," Carson said with a smile. "And it's full. That makes me very lucky." It really did. He wasn't sure how this was going to work out, but at this point in time, it felt like it could work out somehow. 

At least, until Waffle crawled forwards and started to chew on John's socks.

* * *

Apparently he was doing well enough to eat solid food again, which was great because John knew he'd been losing weight by the diet of soup he had been living on recently. He was up and more mobile and looking at the boxes that Lorne had brought over from his apartment. 

Technically he was reorganizing them because they would be going back to Colorado soon where he was undoubtedly going to get his ass chewed out by O'Neill once again, and then probably his father if the man even knew what he had been doing. 

He looked at his research and slipped it into a file. It had been like some weird relief doing that after running around risking life and limb. 

And Rodney thought it had been good work. Still thought it was good work, even if he'd marked it up to hell and back. Maybe some time, he could get it taken care of. Sometime soon. He wasn't even sure he'd be staying in Colorado, but if his stuff stayed with Carson and Rodney, John knew he could at least be sure it wasn't going to get stolen. 

It would be nice to have a sort of home. One which wasn't an ordeal to visit, where people might be pleased to see him every now and then. Assuming he wasn't off getting shot down somewhere. 

He was sure Carson didn't know what he was offering and he hadn't been able to quite get his head around the fact the other man had even offered. But he had and John knew he was in love with Rodney as much as he was capable of loving anyone, and Carson had a way of insinuating himself into people's lives so that within days of meeting him he had had more in depth conversations with him than he had had with pretty much anyone else. 

John had difficulties defining love, but if it involved believing that someone else was more important than himself, both Rodney and Carson were firmly in that bracket. 

And if it was the most he ever got out of life, then John figured he could be happy with it. Rodney was a little unpredictable, and the stuff that John expected him to trip up on was never the stuff that he *did* trip up on. Carson was still mostly confined to bed, but he was doing better, well enough to make the trip back to Colorado. 

He sorted through the files of his research on Rodney's case. That was one of the reasons he was doing this. He had to have the files and evidence together to be sent back with a secure courier who was apparently due to turn up, to support the databurst he'd sent in a hurry just before he faced off Kolya. 

It had to include a full report, with every humiliating detail that O'Neill was probably going to have kittens over and he'd given himself nightmares after writing the last part of it up the previous night. Nightmares of pain, sure, but more of desperate fear when Kolya leveled his gun at Rodney, not just once but twice and he could've lost him. 

Would have, if it wasn't for Rodney's brave little chicken shit dog. He was a good dog, who'd had as bizarre and crappy a life as Rodney had, but still managed to be upbeat, one floppy ear and one nicked ear, and bizarre things he wouldn't do. He definitely wouldn't hop up onto the sofa, and Rodney had hesitated for a long time before he sat down to watch the news with John and Lorne. 

Lorne was pretty okay too, even if he looked like half the time he wanted to ask him stuff about all the damn rumors that seemed to fly around about him. He'd been really good with Rodney who was skittish as hell still. John had inadvertently walked into the room when Carson and Lorne were having their 'Talk'. Or 'Shout' and he'd pretty much heard everything spill out about how Lorne felt responsible for everything, because it was his family that put him there in the firing line, no back up, and he should've known, he should've come sooner, never allowed it because he didn't know what he would do if he lost him...it would be like losing family and didn't Carson *know* how much he meant to him? 

John had melted into the wall at that, feeling like an intruder, and Carson hadn't missed that he was there, but Lorne had. John was learning that Carson didn't miss anything and could pierce through military bravado. Even so, as he listened to his soft Scottish brogue soothing the other man, he wondered how it was Carson had the strength to keep doing this. 

He might have been on bed rest, but he was busy, a calm, confident therapist to all of them. John caught Carson talking things out of him that he didn't want anyone to hear. He'd seen Rodney just pull a chair up to the bed and rest his upper body on the mattress, cheek against Carson's chest, soothing himself with the fact that Carson was still alive, and Carson letting him do what he needed to do. John had witnessed that argument with Lorne, and he'd taken part of the Monopoly Game Massacre, where Lorne was the banker and Rodney accused him of cheating, and Carson had diffused it. 

Somehow Carson seemed to have recognized or been told something that made him realize John's injuries were not straight forward and he'd been waiting in dread for him to push... but Carson hadn't. He hadn't grilled him relentlessly as he expected. He was incredibly grateful for that. If he could treat it as an injury, then he'd be fine. 

There was a lot of paperwork for the mission, and he put it all in one box file, complete with the CD he burned off of his electronic files relating to it. Paperwork sucked but he could do it if he needed to get it out of the way 

And he needed to get it out of the way, needed to get that case behind and beneath him, because it was something he didn't want to think about. Rodney being fired at, and the whipping, and Kolya's heavy, excited breathing in his ear while his ass burned. When he'd had the nightmares that night, Rodney had curled against him, petting him like he was Waffle. 

He didn't say anything about what it had been about and there had been the urge to get up, lock himself away, but Rodney had been there sleeping with him because Carson needed his rest and he couldn't walk away from him. 

It was just another bad experience to add to a whole list of bad experiences. He sometimes wondered if his dad had ever experienced anything like what he had gone through. Whether he'd gone through torture, survived in the desert for weeks on end, been hunted by a super strong alien, been shot down, gone hand to hand with a legend of the Soviet Black Ops... Kolya had been the Reaper, after all this time of agents hunting for the Cold War nemesis, he'd been hiding under their noses in their own country and his father had pulled strings to get him sent up against a man who had systematically decimated whole squads of the best Black Ops they could muster. He knew that last fight had been won by the fact he didn't care if he survived and had tried to take Kolya with him. But that wouldn't matter to his father. Being injured was a sign of incompetence and bad planning, and he was meant to be *perfect*. Getting killed would've been a sign of weakness. 

His father'd probably done something bigger, better or would make any of that nothing. The one good thing about constantly being sent away was he didn't have to spend time under his father's scrutiny. There was a time where he tried to console himself with the fact that his father wanted him to succeed, so maybe he cared in some way, but that soured when he realized his father really wanted a brilliant son as another accolade for his own career. And field ops meant rapid promotions if, of course, John managed to not screw up.

Yeah, that was one thing he was good at. Screwing up. Blundering into top secret operations, not saving his buddies, crashing planes, getting shot down. That was all his father ever heard, not the missions that succeeded or how he managed to defy odds to get back to them. 

He was busy. He made a difference in people's lives... 

"Hey, hey! No, why did you walk through the mud? Hold still, let me clean your paws, no, I don't want a hug, Waffle." 

Back from the walk, then. 

Rodney was doing really well considering. Even if he was having a real problem connecting what happened to him as abuse and rape. In fact John was pretty sure he was going to adapt better than anyone thought. Carson was clever, but once he realized what he was doing, John could see the hundred little ways that the doctor gently chivvied Rodney towards more experience, more independence, more decision making.

He would ask innocent questions that would focus Rodney on what he thought and felt rather than on obedience. He would gently suggest that there were different places that Waffle might want to walk and half remember some place that did wonderful bagels... 

Which meant Rodney, even if he thought he was obeying some impulse had to think and choose where to go, and try and find that place. 

It was little steps, but it was expanding Rodney's world. Carson would have to start from square one when they got to Colorado Springs, but that was all right. Getting Rodney out there and doing little things was pretty important, John realized. He could hear Rodney hum a little, and then the soft slap of hand on fur. "Okay, Waffle -- go find John." 

Waffle had worked out who John, Carson and Lorne all were, though at the start he had been a little confused with John and Lorne so it wasn't a surprise to see him come trotting happily into the room and hruff as he pushed his way through boxes to lick him. 

"Hi guy, how was the walk?" he asked, petting the young German shepherd. "Rodney take you somewhere nice?" 

"If he could talk, he'd tell you all about the furry, uh, you know one of those mop-end dogs? The ones that look like you could scrub the floor with them. He played with one in the park, and I bought him, well, us, but he ate half, a beef frank. Since he was also chased by a dachshund at the park, I figured he'd at least like a nibble." Rodney was still winding the leash around his hand when he padded into the living room, peering at the boxes. "Hi. Carson asleep?" 

"Yeah. Lorne made me promise Carson would rest some before he got back tonight. Doctor Lee says he's doing better but he's still trying to do too much too soon." John explain. "And he said I could have solid food. Which is cool." 

John briefly made a fuss of Waffle, who inelegantly flopped on his back for a tummy rub. 

He had time. Probably needed to tape the box of records shut before the courier arrived, but he'd get to it. "Fantastic. Eventually you get tired of sopping everything in milk." Rodney peered over into one box, but didn't touch anything. 

"Eating it is worse," John replied. "Just sorting through my stuff for the move. You packed up?" 

The sale of the house had been duly passed over and one of the reasons for the hurry was the fact that already, the story was starting to leak out. Carson had predicted that it would hit the news in the next day or so -- there was only so long it could be suppressed, even by the military. 

They wanted Rodney out of there before it hit because it was going to be a media sensation. 

That had been Carson's idea, and John was inclined to agree. Because Rodney didn't see what he'd been through as some huge trauma, and yeah, eventually they'd have to work through that with him, but right now he was happily ignorant of the big deal that that kind of patronage violation was and John wanted to keep him that way. 

"Yeah. The moving company packed up what I wanted from the house, and it's in storage to be moved with all of yours and Carson's things." 

John nodded and move closer to Rodney so the other man could touch him. It seemed to be a need Rodney had, and he found he enjoyed it himself. He couldn't help that he just wanted to kiss him all the time despite all the nightmares and feeling uncomfortable when people he didn't know or trust got too close. 

"Great. Shouldn't take long to get there. I think there's some courier due down here sometime soon," John replied. 

"Not UPS, I take it?" Rodney leaned into him, sliding an arm around his waist. He breathed in, and sighed. "Hmn, you smell good." 

"I went crazy and had a shower," John said smiling. It was impossible to not smile around Rodney when he was like this. "And because I live for danger, I did it alone." He shifted until he was in a comfortable position, and contemplated how best to steal a kiss. 

"That's living on the wild side." Rodney's eyebrows went up a little, but he at least got that it was a joke, and seemed to be leaning in to go for the kill when the doorbell rang. 

If it was Lorne, John was going to hurt him. 

Waffle was off and bouncing towards the door, and John shifted. "I'll get it. Before Waffle licks them to death." 

He really did suck as a guard dog, but as a bodyguard dog he was much better. John disentangled himself and went to the door, opening it cautiously, just in case it was the press. 

"Hi. Special delivery from the SGC for a Dr Rodney McKay?" the courier said and passed his id over to John for examination. It looked okay. 

"I can sign for him." John answered and the courier shook his head. 

"Sorry sir, has to be him and you don't look like the picture I have, but you do look like the person who is meant to be giving me a return package. Is Dr McKay here?" 

"Rodney? It's for you." John called out. 

"Oh, huh..." Rodney walked into the hallway, hesitant to get into full sight until he was sure that yes, it was a man in an air force uniform. "Yes, I'm Doctor McKay." Freshly minted, but Rodney was getting used to attaching the title to his last name, and puffing his chest out when he said it. Double PhD, which was something to be proud of for anyone. 

"Sign here sir for receipt of these documents. I am instructed to inform you have been allocated a level of classification to read these documents and to sign for them and indicate acknowledgement of the confidentiality of their contents to those without such classifications." The courier smiled a little. "I believe Major Sheppard, Dr Beckett and Major Lorne have appropriate clearance to discuss matters with you." 

John was hastily taping the box file up and putting it inside a document sack. "Your return files for the General." 

Rodney signed the sheet, peering at the ridiculously sealed package. "Huh, good. Thank you." 

"Happy reading sir," the courier said and made John sign a dispatch before heading off and John closed the door and turned to watch Rodney. 

He had a good idea what it was going to be barring a few details. "You going to open that?" 

Rodney turned it in his hands a few times. "I think I'll need a class four laser. And if this is what I think it is, I want Carson awake for it." 

"I think he wouldn't mind if we went and gate crashed his bed. He'd want to be awake for it," John replied. "Here, use this..." He tossed him his penknife and started to head towards Carson's room. It had all been about this moment and Carson would kill him if he missed it. 

Even Rodney seemed to understand that. He hurried along with John, and didn't fiddle with the seams of the package just yet. "If this is a very cunning rejection letter, I'm going to feel like an ass." 

"I'm thinking a rejection letter might only rate UPS," John replied as they cracked open the door to Carson's room. For a brief moment the light from the doorway caught Carson's face and John could see the tiredness and exhaustion there and he nearly hesitated in waking him. "Carson?" 

"Mm... wha'? What time is it?" 

"Still afternoon. Sorry. A man from the Air Force brought a package for me, and I thought you might want to see it, or it can wait?" Rodney leaned in a little. He'd tried to convince Lorne to let him stay with Carson when Carson was resting, because he could be *very* quiet and still, and he was a good puppy. It had been a great argument until those last two words had shut Lorne down and... well, at least John had company in his sleep. Quiet, still comforting company, even if he was pretty sure that Rodney's preference was everyone and the dog in the same bed. 

"Oh, the package? It came...." Carson pulled himself together and moved stiffly and painfully over so the pair of them could sit on the bed. "Aye, well worth waking up for that is. Go on Rodney, open it." 

Rodney was smiling from ear to ear, before he started to saw carefully at the packaging tape that sealed both ends. "If this isn't what I think it is, I'm going to feel like an idiot." 

John smirked a little. "I don't think you could ever feel stupid," he said, and out of habit took the left side of the bed, half leaning over Carson to watch Rodney attack the parcel. "Try not to rip up the insides though." 

"Like he would do that," Carson said. "This is better than Christmas -- the suspense is killing me." 

John watched Rodney's hands shake after he set the pocket knife aside, reaching in to slide out the sheaves of paper. He was quiet for a minute, and John tried to not read it over Rodney's shoulder. Carson on the other hand was doing so blatantly, but even so eventually said. "What does it say?" 

"They're offering me a research position at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, for work on applied wormhole physics." Rodney's voice shook, and he was holding the paper tight in his hands. "*Applied* wormhole Physics." 

"Which department?" Carson asked peering over his shoulder. "Oh good! The SGC. That's very convenient." 

John snorted. "Like they'd pass up the opportunity for a mind like Rodney's. That was what you being here was all about after all."

After he said the words he suddenly wondered if Carson had actually told Rodney about his "mission". 

Rodney's head jerked slightly, but his focus seemed to be on the paper. "Aren't you listening? *Applied* wormhole physics. Your, the SGC? It has a functioning wormhole?" 

"Ah, well." Carson looked at John. "I believe it's something that they work on a lot."

John shrugged. He tended to get used in the far flung reaches of Earth. They rarely allowed him in the complex, though he knew about most of what went on because he had a talent for tripping over the top secret stuff. "There some stuff that we can't give you details about until you get there and sign on the dotted line Rodney, but yeah, there's definitely applied practical stuff going on up there." 

"God." Rodney stared down at the sheet, and then laid it down, reaching for other sheets of information. "So you were looking for people, Carson?" 

"Technically yes," Carson sighed a little. "There's research I have been trying to convince the SGC will be very valuable to what they are doing, and they required additional Patronage service before I get to play with all the classified toys they have up there. Evan and his father arranged for me to be on recruitment duty here at one of the main universities. Too many bright people are missed because of their class. It's a sad truth Rodney that you would've been offered far less than your worth, simply because you were raised by your Patron into your field. The SGC is upsetting a lot of people and precedents. They need the minds, not the status. And my 'job' was to do maybe what I did in the first day or so. To talk to you, to find out if you were possible, and as I said to you... talk to Evan and get him to get people interested in you. Somehow I got a wee bit more involved." 

He wasn't sure how Rodney would react, because as much as he knew about Rodney, John couldn't say he was sure about how the man would react to news like that. Carson managed to soften it without lying, which was more than John probably could've done. 

Rodney set the papers down, and then leaned forwards reaching to half hug Carson. "Real wormholes!" 

Carson looked startled and then a wave of relief seemed to pass over his expression as he hugged Rodney back, "Yes Rodney, real wormholes..." 

John smiled a little watching them, wondering if Carson had really been convinced Rodney would hate him for being a recruiter first before he fell in love with him. "There's a note there as well," he pointed out. It seemed to be hand written and certainly not formal. 

Rodney spent a moment longer hugging the life half out of Carson, before he leaned back to peer at what John was saying. "A note? Hand it over..." 

John smiled and saw the signature at the bottom. "Looks like it's from Dr Zelenka," he commented, as he handed it over. 

"He was probably very impressed by your work," Carson added. 

Rodney read over the tight scrawl, and shook his head. "It's... homework? I guess I've got something to do on the long drive down, now." 

"Well that's a good thing. Maybe you can explain some to me as Lorne won't let any of us drive," John offered. Homework his ass. He'd caught a glimpse of one of them and he was pretty sure that was some long standing issue they'd had with the Stargate. He'd be willing to bet the same applied to the other 'homework' problems. 

"Maybe he doesn't want you to get bored," Carson said. "But anyway... you're accepting the position?" 

"I'd be crazy to say no. *Real* wormhole, Carson. You've probably known about it and it's not fascinating for you, but as a theorist who thought it was stuck in the realm of theory of a long time coming..." 

Carson beamed. "I'm so pleased for you Rodney, I really am." And then he leaned in and kissed Rodney, who was still excitable and the action took John by surprise. They didn't usually do that in front of each other. He had a vague idea that that was how it was going to work. 

And that was how it had been working, but it seemed like all bets were off, now, because Rodney was kissing Carson back as hard as he dared, but he reached back with one hand to try to grab at John. 

John nearly lost his balance before he was able to lean in close and kiss at the back of Rodney's neck gently and his hand drifted over Rodney's hair and then over to Carson, which jolted him with the difference. "Easy now," he murmured and kissed him again. "Easy." 

It seemed like the right thing to say, because there was a tension in Rodney that John really didn't expect. He was tense and kissing Carson, but pulling at John, and... 

And when Rodney pulled back, just a little, he was breathing hard, and gave a soft whimpering sound. 

Carson was looking up at them both and he was breathing hard, but also looking very pale. John took hold of Rodney. "Carson? You feeling okay? You look a bit..." 

"I'm sorry Rodney... I don't think I'm up to, up to this yet." Carson sounded winded and John suddenly felt guilty. He was meant to stop this from happening. "It's my fault. I'm ... sorry." 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't." Rodney reached out, petting at Carson's shoulders, getting him to lay back. "I'm sorry. I should let you rest." 

"You need me to get you anything?" John offered, wondering if he should call a doctor or something. "You don't look so good." 

"I'm fine, I'm just bloody fed up with having a useless body that won't allow me to celebrate something so important," Carson replied. "Please, just, you two go celebrate." 

"No. I'm, you're part of the reason I have something to celebrate." Rodney's voice was unsteady, and he leaned in again, but just to get closer to Carson as he stroked at his shoulders. "What can I do to help?" 

"Stop my stomach from tying itself in knots?" Carson said, as he looked like he wanted to curl up and die in a corner. John knew he wanted them to go so he wouldn't have to be weak in front of them, but had the distinct impression Carson had been doing too much. 

"Use Rodney as a stomach warmer while I get a heat pad or something," John replied. It might help, and Carson might realize that they didn't have to be so separate. 

Rodney shifted, easily getting his shoes off and pulling the sheets back to get close to Carson. His precious job offer papers were carefully set on the nightstand. "Worth a try. It should help a little? You don't have to act as if you're not hurt, Carson. It's going to be a long drive down to Colorado, and I'd rather know how you are than how you want to seem." 

"It's just... taking so long," Carson replied in a semi muffled tone. "There's so much I want to do... and I can't yet." 

"And you begin to think there's something wrong and you're not healing at all," John put in even as he watched Rodney ease carefully in. He caught Beckett's startled, almost guilty look and shrugged a little. "Been in your position a couple of times." 

It looked like Rodney was sliding his arms loosely around Carson, crowding close. He was good at that, and John preferred to not think about where he'd learned to do it. "You were in a *coma*," Rodney reminded. 

"It's not even been two week since you woke up," John pointed out. "Most people would still be in the ICU, you know that better than I do. You don't have to pretend around the both of us. You know Rodney gets it." 

"I want you to be healthy. That's... going to take a while, sure, but it's not a problem. You were shot and drowned. I had nightmares that you'd be a vegetable, so the fact that you're on bed rest and stretching yourself thin is a miracle by itself." Rodney turned his head, brushing a vague kiss against Carson's cheek. 

Yeah. Time to find that heating pad. 

"That feels better," he heard Carson murmur as he got up and the other mans eyes closed. Really, it made what he had gone through look trivial. Lorne was right, they were all too damn good at pretending. And he'd been having company, and Carson had been left... pretty much alone. Sometimes that wasn't a good idea. 

Maybe Lorne's idea of rest for Carson was different than what Carson actually needed. And Rodney *could* be good and still and stop when he needed to, even if the 'be a good puppy' part of that argument had nearly made Lorne's hair stand on end. He probably had all sorts of bizarre mental pictures from that, but to John it looked like what he peered at before he turned to leave the room. 

And his part in things? Fetching, carrying and making sure things didn't go too far. He could warm up hot pads with the best of them and he knew about protecting people. It was what he did best. 

Lorne had declared that he needed a break from babysitting, and that he'd be back with Pizza in an hour or two, and could he and John handle the unpacking for a while? 

Of course, Rodney had said yes. It wasn't too much to unpack, just a lot of books and John's equipment and things, and Carson's stuff from his *other* house. Other house, while there was this house, a quiet, small, comfortable place that was going to be stuffed to bursting with books. 

Carson was installed on the couch and forbidden to move, or lift anything but he had slept a fair amount of the journey and had been sleeping a lot more since John had essentially told Rodney to get in bed with him, so just then he was reasonably alert. 

"I asked for a reasonable sized place," Carson was saying. "Do you think it will be big enough?" 

"Oh yeah." After all, all of his things and his favorite pictures and everything fit in four moving boxes and those four bags. Five if he counted Waffle as a box-worth. Rodney looked around, and then added, "We'll probably need to get another bookshelf, though? And possibly we could open a library between the three of us, but it might be a little eclectic." 

"It's possible we might not need *all* the bedrooms," Carson said. "Perhaps we can make one into a study area?" 

"How many bedrooms have we got here?" John asked as he looked around for Waffle and found that he had jumped inside one of the now empty boxes. 

"Waffle's already picked that one out for himself," Rodney declared lightly, before shoving a stack of John's math books at him. "How many do we need?" 

John shrugged. "Depends." Oh, great, he was in one of those moods again. 

"On?" Rodney wasn't going to back off, knew better than. John and Carson didn't know it, but when he'd had permission, he'd managed to coax Kolya out of a lot of quiet, moody funks. 

"Where we're all sleeping," John said, being deliberately obtuse as far as Rodney was concerned. 

"Well, theoretically that is up to the both of you. You don't have to tell Evan this but I'm perfectly happy to share my bed right away." 

Rodney saw John give Carson a sharp look as if the statement surprised him. "Is it big? I haven't really explored. I think we'll need a *big* bed, because Waffle's getting used to being able to get on the master bed, slowly but surely." 

"Waffle will have his own bed," Carson replied. "At some point he'll have to sleep in it -- we might be busy in ours. And yes, it's big. Lots of room." 

Again, John was looking discomfited as if he had suddenly veered off course into uncharted territory. He remained silent as if he wasn't sure what to say. Rodney caught himself tilting his head, caught himself but couldn't really stop. What he stopped was reaching for books. "John?" 

"Mmm?" John glanced at him as he picked up a few more books, looking at them absently. Waffle peered out of his box tilting his head in a mirror image of Rodney at the question. Except Rodney didn't start to chew on one cardboard flap.

"You don't seem exactly pleased," Rodney noted, watching him. 

John looked a little uncomfortable. "I, uh." He looked at Carson and then back at Rodney. "We haven't talked about all *three* of us." 

"We talked about you making a go of it with us," Carson pointed out. 

"Yeah but, Carson, you've just pretty much invited me to bed with you and we haven't talked about *that*." 

"Then we should." And why wasn't it that simple for them? Was it only that easy for Rodney? They cared for him. That was enough. 

"I thought it was implied," Carson said. "Admittedly I'm not up to much right now, but... what did you think was going to happen? You and I have separate beds and Rodney hop to and fro as he felt like it?" 

John shrugged a little. "Well, kinda? You don't really know me that well Carson. Even Rodney doesn't know me that well. I just thought..." 

Rodney pulled John away from the shelf he'd been loading with books. It was easy, just a hand around John's wrist, skin on skin and muscle, tugging him back towards Rodney, towards the sofa where Carson was presiding over the room. "Knowing someone well doesn't mean they're a good trustworthy person." 

"Trustworthy maybe, but trust doesn't automatically equal wanting to have sex with someone," John pointed out. 

"Well, frankly John, who would refuse you?" Carson replied. "You are almost supernaturally good looking. Even convalescing you manage to look like some male model. I was more interested in the personality that went with that and I can tell you, that is just as attractive if not more so." 

"I don't think I can just compartmentalize this." And he gestured to them both when he said it. "I can't do time with Carson on Tuesdays and John on Monday. We're not going to have, uh, timeshare Rodney." 

John sat down, looking at the floor for a long moment and then sat back. "Okay, look here's the deal. It's not that I don't want to, because I'm already kicking myself for just not keeping quiet and going with it. The odds are in a few more weeks, when I'm healed up they're going to send me somewhere where I will probably vanish for a long period of time. If I make it back, the odds are I'll be in hospital, or I'll get a couple of weeks and then it'll happen again. Do you really want to deal with that? Because to date no one has been able to do that." 

Yes. Yes, because Rodney wanted what he could get. "I could... I could make it, me working there, conditional on them not trying so hard to kill you." 

John chuckled. "If you could make it conditional on them finding me something cool to fly, then I'm there," he said and then paused. "You really want to do this?" 

"We do," Carson said firmly. "I thought you understood that John otherwise I would've brought it up before. You seemed comfortable enough lying beside me. And I know you are attracted to Rodney." 

Attracted to, attractive to, it was all twisted up. The funny thing was that Rodney wasn't sure what he'd even do with them, because most of their time since Kolya's death had been talking, doing things, resting or just a little kissing. And a lot of listening to John jerk off in the bathroom. "I want to do this. You've given me new opportunities, John, but this isn't about... repayment. You're fascinating." 

John quirked an eyebrow at him. "Never had anyone call me that before," he said even as Carson shifted a little to get comfortable. 

"They bloody well should've done," Carson replied. "Out of all of us, you are the most mysterious. You pretend you don't know much when Evan is around and then in the next breath you tell me things about Rodney's work which I'm sure would have Dr Zelenka thinking he had two recruits for his projects. You take on the Russian mafia and win single-handed, you rescue me from freezing water and resuscitate me, you play white knight for Rodney here and go toe-to-toe with one of the Soviet's most infamous black Ops legends. That is practically the definition of fascinating." 

"Your *thesis* is amazing," Rodney added in, just to reiterate what he thought of the work and had probably already made obvious. He stayed standing, pacing a little because the idea that John might *go* was one that made him nervous. "It's everything. Listening to you talk, when you sang along to half the music on the radio, just being near you, you're..." 

"Okay, okay compliments are, uh, not something I deal with well." John said. "Fine, look okay, we'll try it. But we'll need at least one other bed out there for the times one of us comes in late or something." 

So John felt like he had an escape. Rodney glanced to Carson, looking for some reassurance that that was okay with *him*. 

"Probably a good idea. Guest bedrooms are always a must. And if Evan visits and stays over there ought to be somewhere more comfortable than the floor," Carson replied and everything sounded so easy and natural when he said it. He was pretty sure things weren't normally this easy. Not from John's bemused expression that clearly told him he was wondering how the hell he'd ended up at this point. 

Rodney stood in front of the sofa, peering at them both, and he knew he had to look hopeful, but maybe it would work in his advantage. "So that's all right? Is there anything else we need to discuss before...?" 

"Nah, it's cool," John replied. "Just got to get this place sorted out. Don't think I've really had a base to come back to before. Should be interesting." 

"I can't imagine not having a place to come back to." But that was Rodney, and his experiences were different. He reached a hand out to grab John's, a weak attempt to pull him up off the sofa. 

John allowed himself to be pulled up. "You get used to it," he replied. 

"Everyone should have a home," Carson put in as he watched them both. He seemed happy to let Rodney deal with John. 

"I spent a few months living in a pay by the week hotel. I figured out then that I... Not really something I could do. You should try the living in one place thing for a while. You won't need to hide money in the body of your guitar, if you do." 

"That's more an occupational hazard," John replied as he looked at Rodney. He shrugged a little. "Guess we should get on with finding homes for all these books." 

"Right." And if Rodney stood a little straighter while he tried to smother down his happiness, Carson and John didn't comment on it. They let him *be* happy like that, without linking it to any action taken or need of their own met. He needed to remember that. 

It was difficult sometimes - he was too used to having not just his actions but his emotions dictated that sometimes it scared him. 

Even so, he was hard pushed to think of anything that could make him much happier than just being here with John, Carson and Waffle setting up their new home together. 

A home and a *job*, which he hoped he'd get to start very soon, and it was the life he'd always wanted. While Rodney wasn't used to having what he wanted, he knew how to enjoy it while it lasted. 

He handed John another book, and grinned.

* * *

Carson was lying on the couch reading, even though he was finally getting more mobile when John came back. He could tell from the way John shut the door that he was not in the best of moods. Best to let him get himself sorted out before seeing how things went. 

Rodney was probably still trying to read all the reports immediately now he had been given SGC clearance. He was waiting for the barrage of questions to come his way. Either way, John would be a little more human after some coffee. 

"Crap! Who's had all the milk?" 

Well, it wasn't *him*, but the sharpness of the question made him set the medical journal down on his lap, peering around the house. No answer to that question. 

"There should be some in there John," he called out. "Evan brought some round yesterday." Maybe he was too impatient to look properly. Maybe Carson should try and defuse the situation. 

"Then he must have poured it down the sink! Dammit, I can't even have coffee!" Not without diluting it within an inch of its life, no, because John's entire body was still testy about what it wanted to keep down. 

"Maybe we've got some... uh, what do you call the powdered milk here? Creamer?" Carson said getting up and heading into the kitchen. 

John was definitely not happy, which was odd because even after everything he had managed to be pretty laid back. 

Except, apparently, after a therapy session. He'd never heard anything *bad* about Doctor Heightmeyer, but then again, Carson didn't have to get treated by her. He was facing more physical therapy than the simple exercises he'd been doing on his own, but that was all right. Getting up and walking to the kitchen would do him no harm. 

"Maybe." John's voice seemed distant, strained. 

"Didn't Rodney take some of the free cartons when we stopped off at that diner on the way down?" Carson asked struck by inspiration. "Hold on... I'm sure we can get some coffee for you John. Rodney?!" 

Rodney had taken to trying new things with food, and doing things just like what Carson had remembered he'd done -- grabbing sugar packets, little single serve creamers. They mostly ended up on the counter top in the kitchen, but not always. 

Except, there wasn't any answer. 

"Just forget it." John rubbed a hand over his face, and leaned one hip against the counter. "I'm just wound up. Forget it." 

"Aye, I can tell you are," Carson said. "I think asking whether it was a good day or not would be pretty redundant. I'm sure he got a few of them. " He stepped out towards the stairs a little. "Rodney? Do you have any of those creamers left?" 

Nothing. He was pretty sure that Rodney wasn't *that* absorbed in his reading, but it was possible. "Just forget it. I think I saw him drinking them like snacks before I left. *I'm* not the one who needs to see Heightmeyer every other day for a month." 

"I take it that therapy didn't go well," Carson said, opening the fridge door in case the milk had been lurking furtively behind the salad bowl, and the cold pizza. 

There *was* enough food in the fridge that it could get lost, but Carson was also sure, once he'd looked for himself, that John was right. The milk had vanished. There was a half eaten apple in the fridge, too, browning and wrapped carefully in saran wrap, and maybe it was time to talk to Rodney about what -- and he didn't want to say 'normal people' -- but people in general, did with food. 

"You could say that." John leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm going to get milk. Do you want anything else?" 

"Let's watch a film or something later?" he suggested as a peace offering. "Your pick. Something to go with the film you think you can eat." 

"Okay. Yeah. I'll find something." John shrugged his shoulders tightly. "I'm getting a gallon this time. Apparently Rodney's a secret milk-fiend. I guess it's better than soda, huh?" 

"Yes, much healthier," Carson said patting him lightly on the arm. "Go on, go burn it off and then maybe we'll uh... probably won't talk about it but you know I will if you want right?" 

"I know." And he still wouldn't talk, but at least in the knowing, well, Carson could think that maybe one day John would talk about it. About *anything* that had hurt him. "I'll see you guys in a little while. Maybe next time I'll drive and then come home." 

He hoped it wouldn't drive John to the spare bed again. He kept hopping over there when he had particularly bad nightmare nights. Carson tended to have those when the others weren't there so it seemed odd to him. He stepped back and let John sweep out of the door, all restless hurt and quick crackling anger. Whatever else had happened, Heightmeyer had stirred John up completely. 

Once he had gone, he sighed and heard the sounds of Waffle trying to sneak down the stairs. "Rodney?" Waffle, sans Rodney. That was unusual, and it gave Carson the strength to slowly mount the stairs on his own. Rodney not answering quick as could be, too, was strange. 

"Where's Rodney, Waffle?" he said to the dog who met him half way. "I could do with you dragging me up here..." It was slow and painful but he reached the top a little winded, but mobile. More than he had managed in a long while. 

Waffle pushed past him and disappeared into one of the designated studies. "Rodney, are you in here?" 

No answer, but Waffle edged around the desk that was still piled high with Rodney's papers, and Carson could only follow after the dog. He could hear Waffle whine, could see his tail wagging, so Rodney *had* to be there behind the desk. 

Carson really didn't expect to find him back there, naked, kneeling on his clothes, with a collar around his neck. 

It stopped him in his tracks a moment before he said "Rodney?" with a hint of shock and incredulity in his voice. "What are you doing?" 

He looked miserable, but it was clearly some learned reaction. He laid his hands on his knees, and shifted, almost squirming, when he gave a quiet whine. 

Oh lord. He must've thought there was some problem or something and reverted to how Kolya treated him. He hesitated a moment and then carefully lowered himself down to his knees in front of Rodney. "Rodney, it's okay... you don't have to do this." 

He didn't even *know* where Rodney had gotten a collar, because Waffle still had his loose around his neck. Rodney still didn't say anything, and leaned into him, hands coming up to -- no, shoot, they were going *down*, touching Carson's belt buckle. Placating behavior, then. 

"Rodney...Rodney, no. Stop," Carson said a little panicked. If just kissing Rodney could send him into a relapse, god alone would know what anything like this would do. "I want you to talk to me. Will you talk to me?" 

He hesitated, and while his hands didn't pull away, they did still, still poised to open Carson's pants. But he lifted his chin a little. "Yes." 

"Good. Look, whatever has caused you to think you should do this... it's not necessary," Carson replied gently touching Rodney's shoulders. "You don't have to wear a collar, you don't have to strip naked and you don't have to offer me sex to improve my mood or anything. Or is there some other reason I don't know about?" 

He was fairly sure that if he got Rodney to *answer*, he at least wouldn't lie. And it seemed like a good working assumption, because Rodney leaned into him slightly, and lowered his chin, his eyes. It was a shame, too, because Carson liked it when Rodney acted more full of himself. "I drank the milk." 

"Drinking the milk is... is not a crime Rodney," Carson said, his heart sinking. John had sounded pretty pissed when he came in but it hadn't really been to do with the milk. "So you thought John was angry?" 

Rodney nodded tightly, and he still wasn't relaxing. "I shouldn't, I, I don't want you to yell because I did something wrong..." 

"Listen, John had a bad time at his therapy session," Carson said softly. "He was wound up when he came in. He knew he was. The milk thing was just... a thing Rodney. Even if we shout sometimes, it doesn't mean you need to do this or that we hate you. We will argue sometimes, I'm sure, but it will be fine." 

"It's my *fault*," Rodney offered again, voice slanting towards low and strained. "If, if I hadn't drank the milk, John would, wouldn't have gone back out, he'd be home..." 

"And he'd be stomping around snapping at us both and then getting angry at himself for being angry," Carson said. "It's not a bad thing he is out Rodney." He touched the collar. "I want to take this off... can I?" 

He nodded, and his hands started to slip, laid lightly on his thighs. "It, it was the only, only thing I could think of..." 

"You don't need to think of it," Carson reassured. "I love you Rodney. Even if we argue, everything's fine." His fingers slipped over the collar, finding the buckle. "Anything you do, you do free Rodney. Because you want to, not because you have been trained that way." 

He tilted his head, and bumped his cheek against the inside of Carson's wrist. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. John will be back soon," Carson murmured. "It'll be okay. We'll just buy more milk for the future. It's really not a problem Rodney. Let's get some clothes on you. Though you are very lovely naked, neither of us are really in a position to do anything about it." 

Rodney shifted, and reached his fingers up to his neck, mouth pulled down in a frown. "I'm sorry." 

"No apologies, love," he said slipping the collar loose and dropping it. "Not for any of this, really. Put something on and then would you help me up? I think I've got myself stuck down here." 

And Rodney did just that, obedient and quick-moving, fingers pulling on boxer briefs and his shirt before he leaned back into Carson to stand them both up. "I don't mean to be a bad puppy." 

"You are not a bad puppy Rodney," Carson said. "You're not a puppy at all. You need to know this. You need to remind yourself of it. You are Rodney: brilliant, wonderful, exciting..." He wished sometimes that he could get into Rodney's head, and see what he was thinking. Rodney leaned into him, the gesture heavy and full of emotion, but he didn't say anything. 

He held him for a long time, just quiet and gentle with him in his arms and a soft kiss to his temple. But after five minutes, he really was starting to hurt. "Please, Rodney, let's get up? I'm stuck," 

"Okay." Rodney did pull him up then, and he leaned into Carson to keep him upright. "We'll, do you want to lay down? I'm sorry." 

"I told John we'd have a movie when he got back. Let's make it to the couch, I can cope with that," Carson answered. He was actually proud of the fact he had managed this mission upstairs. "You don't have to be sorry... or I will have to be sorry that you are sorry." 

"Okay." It was still mute and silent for Rodney, but at least he was partially dressed and wandered with Carson out of the study. 

Carson couldn't wait to recover. Admittedly his research was doing very well through enforced inactivity, but he wanted to catch up with the others. "Are you feeling better?" 

"No?" Rodney's mouth almost twisted towards a smile, and he kept walking Carson. He was slower taking Carson down the steps, even more careful. 

Carson chuckled a little. "Well at least you're telling me the truth and not what I want to hear. What are you worried about Rodney?" 

"Doing the wrong thing. If, if... I mean, there's a good chance that if I did drink all the milk it might -- well, I know logically, from you, that nothing would happen, but I..." Rodney shrugged with his voice. 

"Have problems feeling it?" Carson supplied. "Do you think John would do something to you?" Maybe it was that. 

"No. He wouldn't. You wouldn't. I don't want to lose you." His voice dropped, slid to a whisper again, when they reached the bottom step. 

"You won't Rodney, believe me," Carson replied trying to reassure him. "And I don't think you would lose John either, as long as we can keep him safe." 

It worried him, the sort of danger John was sent into. It couldn't be right or normal. "When I signed the papers, I said that if they, if they *do* that to John, I'm leaving. There's no sense in doing that to him." Rodney tilted his head down, walking Carson closer to the sofa. "What movie?" 

"Something John might like," Carson replied. "Perhaps one from the sci-fi collection or comic book based. That's always good for heckling." 

It wasn't that far to the store unless he took a detour. 

Which was possible. John was trying to work off anger, anger left over from his therapist session. And tomorrow, Rodney would be going to see the woman, and Carson wasn't sure he had the emotional strength to deal with them both wound up like that. "Okay. Here, let's..." Rodney got him sitting on the sofa, and Carson heard a quiet wuff as Waffle slunk out from behind the sofa. "Are you comfortable?" 

"Aye, very comfortable thank you," Carson said as he settled down. He couldn't do anything else though because it was obvious that Rodney needed to be a little more robust in his emotions before he was going to cope with dealing with things at the SGC. "How was the reading going Rodney?" 

"Well. It's amazing." Rodney slouched down beside him on the sofa, legs stretched out, posture lazy as if he hadn't just been waiting for Carson or John to *do* something to him. 

"Just a little amazing," Carson replied with a smile. "It was very difficult to wait for your clearance to come through, though I'm sure Evan and John have much more exciting stories than I have had." 

"I'm going to be working with *aliens*." Rodney's voice was still full of wonder when he said that. "Against other aliens. Through science. This is so completely different than what I expected." 

"There's a sort of superhero thing going on isn't there?" Carson replied. "To be honest, I got bumped up into their Infirmary as one of the junior doctors because of my research and mainly because I have the Ancient Gene. It's a wee bit like gold dust. But they are desperate for people with your sort of mind, and there are just so few of them filtering up to the upper echelons nowadays. Those who have the qualifications are unwilling to take uh... risks I suppose and they cannot be bribed with the incentive of money to try and do these new things. I had to clear my patronage service before I could be considered for a research position. That's why I was at NIT." 

"Have you cleared it now?" Rodney shifted, like he was restless, but didn't get up yet. Hopefully he was just putting serious thought into what movie to watch. 

"Oh yes," Carson replied. "And I have compensation coming for hazardous duty...a tidy sum actually though all things told I'd rather be recovered." He slipped an arm around Rodney. "You don't need to worry about that." 

"I'm not worrying." Rodney's voice was still low and not quite what Carson was used to, so yes, he was sure that Rodney *was* actually worrying. But he leaned into Carson. "So, you're going to be able to work on your research now?" 

"Since I've been on bed rest it has been all of what I can do, so I'm fairly well advanced," Carson smiled. "Don't tell anyone but I think I'm onto developing something that might activate the ancient gene sequence in normal humans. I could really do with some very strong natural gene holders though. There's General O 'Neill who avoids the infirmary at all costs, and we're not sure how much is natural or induced in him." 

"How do you tell if someone has a gene? I mean, is there a blood test?" 

"Well that was part one of my research," Carson answered. "At the moment we randomly hand someone one of the ancient devices we know works and see if it light's up. But, yes there is a blood test now." It had been difficult to identify a reliable gene marker. He had to do it because he was pretty sure that there had to be a latent gene combination present to activate even if they couldn't get things to work. 

Something to turn on, but he had to work out the wiring of it first, and perhaps that would be a way to explain it to Rodney. Except Rodney would suggest tearing out the wall and that couldn't quite be done with humans. Not quite. "Huh. Any chance I might have it?" 

"I'll certainly give you the test," Carson replied. "But we've been trying it a lot with anyone coming in and so far there's only two of us with a strong gene though I think as much as fifty percent will have markers." 

"I'd rather have a blood test than talk to the doctor tomorrow." Rodney said it quietly, and tilted his head down, leaning into Carson's loose touch. 

"Aye well, I think John would agree with that," he replied and stroked at his hair. "Just... talk Rodney. You are a very strong person, stronger than you would believe. I know this, John knows this. You need to know it too. And you know no matter what, we are here for you." 

"Then why do I need therapy? There's... There's home and there's work, and they've always been separate for me. I'm all right at work." Except for his food problems, and possibly a near constant worry about what he should be doing. Carson wasn't going to point out to him that his reaction to John complaining about the milk being gone wasn't normal. 

"Because to all intents and purposes Rodney you have been through a very traumatic situation," Carson said. "Which is why John has to do it too. I expect I won't escape it, either, in the long run." 

"I didn't think it was traumatic when I was in it..." Another slight shift, and Rodney laid his head on Carson's shoulder. So, maybe he wasn't going to get up and get a movie. 

They could wait. John would be back soon.

"Aye, well there are some activists who think that the Patronage system is little more than legalized slavery," Carson replied. "Your case would be a godsend to their cause. And to promoting the evils of the Soviet system. Perhaps they are wondering about that. It will do you good to be able to talk to someone who you are not concerned about upsetting or making angry." 

"I'm not concerned. I know I can talk to you, it's just, what I know to do in situations like that, with confrontation at home, is... limited." 

"Well, then hopefully between us we can give you more options," Carson soothed him gently. "Nobody expects you to get everything over night. You've got a decade or more of this instilled in you. You are doing really well already." 

He meant that, but he didn't want to encourage anything the wrong way, to set him back. 

"Sometimes, I think I miss parts of it." He offered it quietly, still slouched down comfortably beside Carson. 

"Which parts do you miss?" Carson asked knowing he couldn't refuse that proffered bit of information. 

"The good parts. When I was a good puppy, he'd let me lay on his lap on the sofa. And I played with Waffle a lot more. Sometimes it was... freeing. I knew the rules and I never broke them and everything usually went all right." 

"You can play with Waffle as much as you want. There is nothing unusual about that. And... if you want to lay on someone's lap, I'm sure we can accommodate that. Not as a puppy, but as *you*, as Rodney," Carson emphasized. "And not as a reward for something, but because you want it. It's okay to want things Rodney."

"I'm not used to it. I wanted things for so long and never got them, that I stopped wanting much." He shifted, though, twisting to face Carson, but not to kiss him, and thank god because he didn't think he could cope with Rodney that way just then. Just to slouch down close to Carson, tucking his face in against the side of Carson's neck. Rodney wanted comfort, and apparently Carson could say anything he wanted, but it was in action that Rodney listened. 

That was something to note and to work on. He shifted so he could encourage Rodney to lie a little more comfortably, even as Waffle came wandering over to see what they are doing. 

"Maybe we should go back to before you met Kolya. You wanted things then." 

"I wanted to learn. I wanted to do something in life. I wanted... big goals that I couldn't afford." One more shift, and it was as if their body positions clicked, because Rodney was comfortable against him and nothing much ached. Waffle hopped up onto the couch, on Carson's other side. 

"Aye, I know that feeling. But you wanted, that's the point. They were your hopes and dreams and no one else's," Carson said. "If you can remember how you were then it might show you the difference a wee bit more clearly." 

"I finally have what I wanted." Rodney sounded otherwise at a loss, though. He had ten years of abuse to muddle through first, abuse that had seemed normal enough that he'd snapped at Carson for suggesting he get a chit. 

"You'll want more," Carson predicted comfortably even as Waffle mirrored Rodney's position on the other side and sniffed at Rodney's head, then randomly licked him as if putting his own seal of approval on things. 

"I want to know what normal is. I want this. I want John to come home and be okay." His wants were small, vaguely intangible, but it was a start, Carson supposed. Rodney lifted his head a little, and his mouth pulled towards a smirk. "I want Cheetos?" 

"Now that we can do something about," Carson said comfortably and he smiled back at Rodney. "Although I suspect the last packet we had in the cupboard is now gone?" 

"Maybe? But I didn't do it." Rodney leaned back to where he'd been, but he was still smiling. "Some things I still only do with permission." 

"Well, one thing we definitely need to work on is the business of not eating without permission," Carson said. "You need to eat what you want, when you want. Admittedly when I am well enough I will be trying to persuade you of the healthy options, but even so..." 

"I can cook -- I know how to eat well." He sounded vaguely offended. Well, maybe it was time to *get* Rodney to cook, then. 

"I'm not sure what John's been living on, but he has lost too much weight, " Carson said. "So have I but I had it to lose and..." He was interrupted by Waffle sitting up and looking at the door and hruffing just as there was the sound of the key in the lock. 

Rodney shifted, peered after where Waffle was looking. "I could make something?" 

"Aye, well there is that if you want to do that," Carson said as John came in. He still looked like he'd been through the ringer, but he seemed calmer. 

"Hey guys." 

"Hi." Rodney shifted, leaned to wave at him. "How are you feeling? I'm sorry about the milk..." 

John shrugged. "No problem. Milk runs out sometimes," he said and he managed a smile back at him. 

"Rodney was a little concerned it was his fault," Carson said delicately. 

John looked at him then at Rodney. "It's just milk. I was just... stressed. Nothing to do with you guys." 

"Carson told me that." And now Rodney was without pants. Carson could only guess what John thought was going on, but Rodney was at least comfortable. "I could make dinner?" 

"Make dinner? " John sounded surprised. "You cook?" 

"Apparently so," Carson contributed. 

"Since you're both so skeptical..." Rodney shifted, sliding off of Carson's lap. "I will. Just to show you." 

"Sure. Not sure what we've got in there to cook with though," John replied. "Anyway, aren't we doing a movie?" 

"Aye, we thought we'd let you pick though," Carson said as he watched John put the groceries down and reached for a coffee. 

"I'll find something." Rodney stretched, and patted his hip to call Waffle to him. Whatever they ended up with for dinner, it was going to have a side order of dog hair. 

Carson looked up at John and patted the couch when he returned with the coffee. "Feeling any better?" 

"Some." John leaned, and he watched Rodney wander off into the kitchen. "What, uh, happened to his pants?" 

"He heard us having our spirited dispute over milk and... reacted a little like he would if Kolya had caught him doing something wrong." Carson replied. "I found him upstairs naked with a collar on." 

"Collar? Where--" John twisted, looked over his shoulder, and dropped his voice low. "Where'd he get one in the first place?" 

"I think he brought it back from the house," Carson said quietly. "He took a little persuading to not throw himself at me." 

John reached a hand up, rubbed at his temple. "Jesus. Maybe we all need therapy. But he's okay? You're okay?" 

"I made it up and down the stairs with only a little help," Carson replied and he knew he sounded ridiculously proud of that, but he had to take his achievements where he could. "He seems to be okay. A little shaken. Words aren't enough. Actions suit him better. He says he misses some of it." 

He heard a quiet sigh from John, and then he stood up from the couch. "Okay. I'll grab a movie and see if he needs any help with dinner, then. Thanks for..." 

"It's fine John. It's going to be better than fine," Carson replied looking up at him. "This time you don't have to be on your own. Neither does he." 

And maybe that was something they needed to work on. Because they were two people who were used to being abandoned or shoved aside trying to adjust to being accepted. It made Carson's head hurt a little, but John just quirked a smile and turned to head to the DVD shelves. 

Carson nearly sighed to himself. He had a feeling that his apparently slow recovery was going to be taxing one way or the other. John seemed just as uncertain about words. Perhaps Rodney wasn't the only one who needed to see things in action before he could believe it. If that was the case, he really needed to recover so he could back up what he was saying with what he was doing. Not just for Rodney, but for John as well.

* * *

Carson thought it was a good idea, or at least, he'd *said* it was. Rodney needed to learn the city, and he needed to be independent, and explore. He wanted to, too, but that still didn't stop Carson from triple-checking the directions and John from making sure that all the fluid levels in his car were all right and that he had John's cell phone in his pocket. 

The last time Rodney remembered being mothered like that, it had been his first day at public school when he was four. 

He half thought that he might be heading up to the mountain as John appeared to do and Lorne and presumably Carson when he could walk more than a few meters without needing a rest. But apparently Dr Heightmeyer had a practice in the city itself and his appointment was there. 

Finding it proved to be a test of his ingenuity and nerve. He'd driven the short distances around campus, to the local shops but they had rarely set foot in town, and certainly not alone since that first night in search of a suit. 

It was disorienting, and his nerves crawled tight up his back. By the time he managed to find a parking spot and head uneasily to the building, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that everyone was watching and *knew* who he was. Even though he was no-one and nothing at all. But it made him walk a little faster up into the building, made him anxious as he waited for the elevator to come down. 

Still, he had found the right place, he had navigated unfamiliar streets and that was a good start. Heightmeyer's offices looked like she shared the practice on a part time basis with a few other psychiatrists, but there she was on the smart brass plaque as he located their "reception". And with a few minutes to spare as well. 

The receptionist looked a little bored to be there, but Rodney was used to that in Academia. There was always something better to do than smiling and pretending to really like other people. "Hi. I'm uh, Rodney McKay, here for my appointment." He drummed his fingers on the desk a little, trying to push back his nerves. 

The receptionist pasted on a smile and tapped something into her computer. "Please take a seat. Dr Heightmeyer will be out in a few minutes." He wondered if that meant she had someone in there as he was standing there, or maybe she was reading notes or something. 

It didn't matter one way or the other, but he was curious. Still, Rodney shifted, and sat down in the little waiting area, arms folded over his chest. He had John's cell phone, and Carson had suggested that when he felt better, all three of them would go and get Rodney signed up for one. Because they were useful and good for contacting Carson or John. Both. 

He liked the idea of being able to phone them. Right now he would really like to talk to one or other of them just to settle his nerves. The fish in the fish tank opposite him drifted lazily and calmly, their world reduced to something like a cubic meter of protected environment where they could live out their lives. Nice and predictable... 

"Dr McKay? Would you like to come in now?" 

A woman was standing in front of him, with red copper hair and a pale complexion, her smile unexpectedly warm. 

Doctor. He'd have to get used to that, to being Doctor, but he'd earned it. Years of work and research and surviving Acastus had earned him that title. "Thank you." He shifted, stood up, and she stepped back smoothly out of his personal space. 

They entered her room which was very casual with a variety of chairs scattered seemingly at random. "Please, take a seat...and feel free to call me Kate. If that's too much, just call me Doctor. Whatever you are comfortable with. Would you prefer me to call you Rodney or Dr McKay?" 

"Rodney is fine." There were almost *too* many chairs to choose from, as tightly wound as his nerves were. But he picked one, a comfortable upholstered thing, and hoped there wasn't some deeper meaning to be found in the chair he liked best. 

Kate sat down in a chair nearly opposite him, picking up a pad of paper and a pencil. "Tools of the trade," she said with a smile. "Now Rodney, you've been referred to me as part of the employment offer from the SGC for a concentrated course of therapy. I'd like to hear your views on why you think they have referred you here..." 

"I spent over ten years with Acastus Kolya as my Patron." The edges of his mouth pulled up a little. "Apparently, that's enough." 

"Why do you think that would be enough Rodney?" Kate asked even as she poured out a couple of glasses of water and put them on the low coffee table within reach of them both. 

"The conditions I lived under when he was my patron are... what I'm learning were very different than what they should have been. My predecessors never left his service by their choice." Murdered. It always made Rodney wonder why *he* was the one who lived for so long, oblivious to the world around him. 

"You said that you are learning that they are different..." she picked up on that phrase. "What did you think at the time?" 

"It was what I was used to. It seemed normal to me, and when I did question it... I thought there was something wrong with *me* to be having a problem." He remembered fantasizing about killing himself, about that stretched thin feeling that he hadn't been able to shake, even before Carson had started to talk to him. It seemed distant, hazed now, lost in memory compared to the present moment where rising nerves felt like he was going to throw up, not collapse. 

"Perhaps you could explain what a 'normal' day was like," Kate asked. 

She had to have some idea. There were reports and questions he'd answered before. Surely she had those and didn't need to go over all this again. 

"I thought you already knew that?" He had to ask, had to know *why* she wanted him to tell her. 

"I know how other people have written it down," Kate replied. "What I don't know is how you express it. Things that pieces of paper cannot convey. I want to hear from you about yourself." It was a surprisingly fresh and honest answer which she gave without hesitation. 

All right, then. Rodney shifted, and finally settled on crossing his legs loosely at the ankle. "On a good day, I woke up around five through the week. I walked Waffle in the back yard -- and before Waffle, there was Willard. He was a good dog -- and came back inside to make Acastus breakfast, put together a lunch for him, and feed Waffle. By then he was usually awake, and I went back upstairs. Acastus liked to see his puppies in the morning. Sometimes we played while he got dressed, and sometimes I serviced him. It depended on what he felt like. Then he'd bring clothes out, and I'd be allowed to dress while he ate and read the paper. Then I went to work. I had classes three days a week, and research time Tuesdays and Thursdays, with office hours around lunch all five days. I used to *take* classes three days a week, but the last two semesters I taught undergrads and did as much research for my thesis as I could. After work, I went back home. I walked Waffle again, undressed. I usually made dinner, unless there were instructions saying otherwise, and played with Waffle for company. Sometimes I worked on my research until he came home." He ran it through his mind, trying to not miss details, but there were so many subtle things he wasn't sure how to voice. "When Acastus came home, we greeted him at the door. Sometimes he wanted me to talk, and sometimes he didn't, so I'd wait for permission or instructions. He served dinner to me, we ate, and after that he... did what he wanted for the rest of the evening." 

Kate just nodded. "Which part of your day did you enjoy most?" she asked and there was none of the looks of shock and near horror he had seen in the expressions of people like Lorne. 

"Work." He even managed a laugh when he said it. "And when he came home in the evening. I didn't have to think. It was... easy." 

She scribbled a brief note. "You spoke of servicing him. What exactly did that entail?" 

"In the mornings? I sucked him off." He could still remember that, tangibly. Kneeling at the end of the bed, between Acastus's legs, hands loose in his hair, guiding him gently through the act. 

"And in the evening? Was that also service?" Kate asked and it didn't seem to be the fact of sex she was focusing on, but how he was talking about it. 

"No. No, no, it was..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders. "Usually focused on what I wanted, if it meshed with what he wanted. I could play with Waffle, and I could lay on his lap and watch the news. The only time it felt like service was when he..." Rodney waved one hand slightly. "There were things he liked to do that I didn't." 

"Whay don't you give me an example?" Kate asked. 

"He liked to play with electric toys. He liked to..." Rodney waved his hand a little. "Push my limits, and I don't like them pushed." 

"Did you communicate this with him?" Kate asked carefully. 

"Yes. He used to tell me that I needed to learn." Rodney shrugged his shoulders slightly. "And he'd reward me for going along with it." 

She nodded a little and made another note. "Did it always feel normal Rodney?" 

"Yes. When I had trouble with what was going on, I used to wonder what was wrong with me." His smile then was less smug, more of a miserable quirk. There hadn't been a *damn* thing wrong with him. 

"You said used to - if your perception changed, how did it change?" she asked in her soothing calm voice. 

"Carson started to talk to me. As a friend. He brought me food, and I was... usually always hungry. It was just how things were. And he slowly brought up the idea that what Acastus did was wrong. That I shouldn't be whipped outside of regulation areas, and that food control like that was one of the precepts of brainwashing. I was already questioning what was wrong with me that I wasn't entirely happy with my place in life. I was thinking things that bothered me. And Carson... helped me make sense of a lot of it. He told me about his patronage service, with Major Lorne." 

"Was this the first time that anyone had discussed things like this with you? Tried to be a friend to you?" Kate queried and reached to take a sip of her glass of water. 

"Yes. I'm not..." He managed another shrug, and watched her take that drink. "I'm not personable." 

"Why do you say that Rodney?" Kate asked quirking her head at him just a little. How was he meant to answer that? People didn't like him, that was all there was to it. 

He reached for the other glass of water, and took a sip off of the edge. "People just don't like me. I told a complete stranger at my dissertation defense that he was full of bullshit and demanded that he try to prove his point. Acastus always told me that my personality was rough if I was left to myself, and he was right about that." 

"Evidentially there are exceptions to this rule. There appears to be people who do like you," Kate lightly challenged that assertion. 

"John does. And Carson does." Rodney kept a tight hold of the glass, nursing another sip. Maybe he could settle his stomach that way. "Lorne doesn't know what to do with me." 

"Why do you think John and Carson like you and that Lorne doesn't know what to do with you?" Kate asked, watching him carefully. 

"I don't know. Carson and John are... I want to be with them both. It's a different kind of relationship. Lorne always seems angry, and I don't know if it's at me, or." 

Kate nodded again and seemed to pause a moment. "Let's take a break from relentless question and answers hmm? How about free association. I'll say a word, you say the first thing that comes into your mind and then something about what you have said. Just a sentence, nothing major. Okay?" 

"Okay." He took another sip. No wonder John had come back home the night before full of tense. 

She nodded. "Okay. Blue." 

He was going to try to not over think it, so he did blurt the first word that came to mind. "Sky. It's... well, that was an obvious one. It's actually a chemical reaction." 

She smiled a little but didn't comment. "Food." 

"Locks." Rodney took another sip of the water. "There were locks on the cabinets at home." 

"Safety," she said after making a note. 

"John." He leaned to put the glass back, and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest again. "He saved me.' 

"Work." 

"Hope. I was always working towards the goal of... doing something applied with my work." 

It seemed to be an answer she was expecting but she carried on. "Love." 

There was no immediate word that came to mind for love. No knee jerk association, and he hesitated, trying to find something that *was* a word. "I, uh..." 

"It's okay, we'll move on," Kate replied. "Sacrifice." 

"Sex." He hesitated again, and tightened the fold of his arms over his chest. "Not sure why." 

Another note made. "Last one. Comfort." 

"Carson." He gave a quiet laugh. "I like sleeping with him, and it's comfortable." 

"Good. Now let's try something different again. I want you to think back to when you were growing up, and tell me about a memory that comes clearly to mind. Any memory," Kate asked and it was like she was trying different methodologies to see what would work best on him. 

Hopefully at some point she'd give him a clue. He shifted in the chair, leaning back a little more. "Uh, I have a lot of pretty clear memories from then. Going to work with my father because he was trying to talk me into working for the mine. It never worked out, since I was claustrophobic. My sister... Jeannie. She was precocious and sweet, and she was always pretending to be mom. She was smarter than that, though. She was as smart as me." 

"Describe Jeannie to me?" Kate prodded gently. 

"Then... Then she was bright and brilliant, and she's always been beautiful. Tall and graceful. She could do anything at all, at least as good as me, sometimes better. She was artistic and she danced, and then last I knew she was English teacher in town, married to a miner. She didn't want to try to find a patron. I haven't talked to her in years." 

"What do you feel about that? About not contacting her?" Kate asked again and he was starting to realize why an hour of therapy was more than enough. 

It was tiring. He was tired. He wanted to go home and crawl into bed. "I, I don't know. If I call her now... I wouldn't know what to say." 

Kate smiled sweetly. "Well Rodney, that leads me onto this..." She produced a rather nice looking journal. "This is for you to write anything you like in as long as you write at least one thing a day. I will provide you with some suggestions but in the end, I want you to decide what you feel is important to note down. I would suggest that perhaps tonight you could write ideas of what you might say to Jeannie if you were to speak to her. Or you could write about what you felt about therapy today. Or something funny, or sad, or something that made you feel, or a memory or dream. Does that sound possible?" 

He could try. "Sure. I'll try. It's probably going to be a boring read." 

"I think there's one thing that it's not going to be, and that is boring," Kate replied. "Now, I've asked you quite a lot, so is there anything that you want to ask me? About any difficulties you might be experiencing or feelings that you are having, or other people's behavior?" 

"Carson and John, uh..." Rodney cleared his throat. "And Lorne, actually. Seem nervous or, not sure, or I'm not even sure. Lorne doesn't trust me to not-- I don't know what he *expects* me to do to Carson, actually. Completely fail to control myself. And Carson and John won't let me do anything more than be a little affectionate. And I'm really used to sex as something that's normal and part of the day." 

"I can give you a variety of possibilities," Kate said. "Their conception of you is centered around the abuse they feel you have suffered, and the sexual treatment you received forms part of that. There are two reactions to sexual abuse. Either it is assumed that it is a rape, in which case any physical attention might be expected to be horrifying for you, or it is rationalized that the victim participated and therefore is unstable sexually." 

"What should I do?" He didn't think of it as rape, and he *had* participated, but he wasn't unstable. He wasn't. And sex was just a *piece* of his life, but Rodney liked to have all of the pieces slotted together and functioning if he could.

"Let them know that you are emotionally ready for physical contact," Kate said. "However, Major Lorne's reaction is most likely to do with Dr Beckett's physical condition. I would guess he is overly protective because he feels he was unable to protect his friend before." 

Rodney managed to nod to that. At least he could take back *something* useful from the tiring hour. "All right. I'll keep that in mind. Uh, my next session is...?" 

"The day after tomorrow. " She glanced at the clock. "Good. We have had a very informative session Rodney. I believe that we can make good use of our time together." 

He was less sure of that. And he was going to have to drive home, too. "Sure. I'll uh. See you then." He gave a vague wave, and shifted to stand up, nearly forgetting the journal. She picked it up and handed it to Rodney without saying anything and it made him wonder if John had to do one as well and why he had come back so angry. Maybe they did different things, maybe he wasn't reacting how he should react... 

"I'll look forward to it," she said. And with impeccable timing there was a discrete beep from an alarm that obvious indicated time was up. 

He clutched it tight in his hand, and left with only one vague last wave to her. Maybe he could ask about the journal when he got home. 

If he managed to drive home without hitting anything.

* * *

His arm and leg were trapped, and the body was beside him, a fucking great lump torn out of the guy's chest from the grenade he'd set off at close quarters. That *had* to kill him. After all the other times, this had to be it. No more glowing eyes guy... Jesus. 

He turn and looked again and a giant black snake thing was uncoiling, sliding out through dead skin, as it hissed at him with obvious intent. He stared and then started to panic as he struggled to pull free. It would go for his neck and he would be ready for that as it slithered over onto his chest. 

And then instead of striking upwards, in a surreal twist it turn and slithered downwards, disappearing even as he chanted no, no, no to himself and then there was the *push* and the.... 

John shot awake, barely choking back a scream. Where the fucking hell had that twist in events come from? 

Just, fuck. What the fuck? Fuck, his heart was hammering ninety billion beats a minute, and to his left, Rodney and Carson lay still and asleep -- Carson quiet, laying on his back, Rodney curled against his side, one leg over John's. He had to get up, before he woke them both up. It was too hot, and the room felt too small. 

John slipped off the bed, trying not to wake Rodney when he eased his legs from under him, or Waffle who was sleeping on his own bed, but in the room. This was the disadvantage of living with people. Before when he'd had the nightmares which were regular enough to become familiar, it was just him somewhere. No one had to know. They just assumed a slightly sleepy tousled look in the morning meant he'd gotten lucky, which explained a lot about his reputation. 

Usually he got them under control, but this damn therapy was stirring it all up like a hornets' nest. Time to get to the spare room, because once he started like this, it usually meant a bad night's sleep. 

He didn't even know if he'd bother this time, with trying to go back to sleep. He shifted restlessly even as he stood, wondering just how hellish his subconscious was that it was trying to inflict rape by Goa'uld on him. Rape by Kolya was pretty bad, and dreaming about losing a buddy to the snake creatures was bad, too, but the two nightmares didn't have to meet. Except, they had now. 

He got to his feet, and started to quietly pick his way across the floor. Rodney never seemed to have nightmares. Carson did occasionally. Pretty obviously ones of trying to fight his way out of a sinking car while gunshot. He could understand that. 

Maybe he'd just go get a coffee, write the damn dream down in the journal so Heightmeyer could have some sort of psychiatrist's orgasm at how fucked up he still was. 

He was pretty sure that she went home and masturbated to it all. She seemed like the type to him, not that he'd ever really appreciated people who poked in other people's heads much. Rodney was playing along -- one of those good puppy moments, and she probably hadn't realized that if approval was involved, Rodney would still knee jerk try to do *anything* to get it -- scribbling things in his journal now and then and making no effort at all to hide it away from John and Carson. 

He'd managed to keep his hidden. He'd skipped doing his "assignments" up to the point where Heightmeyer bullied him to do them with the innocent seeming threat that she had to sign off on his fitness for duty. Physically he was pretty much there, if out of condition. 

Mentally, apparently, his usual ploy of claiming this sort of thing as just another set of physical injuries was not getting past them. He went and got out the journal and then padded softly downstairs towards the kitchen, turning on the light when he got there. His hands were shaking still and that was more than annoying. 

It shouldn't bother him. He was *trained* to handle shit like that, and it was creeping up in his sleep, while *Rodney* rolled through it like he was asleep. He snuggled in close to them both and he was just out, and John envied that. He wanted to be able to just live in the moment like that, contented so easily. Well, fine. He'd write the damn dream up for the crazy bitch and the sooner she signed off on him the better. 

Coffee machine on and John sat down to open the journal. Heightmeyer thought he had an ambivalent relationship with death and mortality, and one of his assignments last week had been to note down every time he could remember being close to death. It had gone on for pages and pages. Maybe she thought he exaggerated when it came to his father and the danger he sent John into for the glory of the Sheppard name. Or maybe dear old dad was punishing him for his part in weakening his mother's health by being born, so she died when he was young as Kate suggested. Did it really matter? The end result was the same. 

He started scribbling down the dream in as much details as he could remember. They'd been over the horror of him having to fight and kill the man who had been one of his closest friends after he had been taken over by a Goa'uld, so he just indicated that it matched reality. 

And then the twist... 

"Hi." He startled at the sound, stabbing the pen into the journal and skittering his chair back half a foot by the time he thought to look up and his brain supplied that it was only Rodney. 

"Jesus Rodney!" Okay, he was jumpy, and strung tight and he knew it. "I thought you were asleep." 

"Sorry. I was, I heard you moving." Rodney rolled his shoulders slightly, and straightened out his t-shirt. "I still sleep light." 

"Sorry I woke you up... I uh...." He grimaced a little. "Just had a bit of disturbed sleep. Thought I'd go in the other room so you guys could have peace and quiet." 

"Coffee smell would have gotten me up anyway." Rodney peered just for a moment at the table top. "So, you do have a journal." 

John sighed scrubbing his hand through his hair a moment. "Yeah. Yeah I do. Not very good at writing in it though. Thought I'd give the Doc a treat with a lurid nightmare." 

"She's trying to get you to think it through. That's all." Rodney shifted, pulled out a chair. "At least, that's why she asks me. So it doesn't just filter through and out." 

"Personally I think she asks me because she enjoys me being uncomfortable," John said. "Look, you should go back to sleep Rodney. No point you losing out too." 

"I nap when I need to. And Carson's still catching up on sleep. You might as well have company." Rodney leaned his elbows on the table, and smothered a yawn. "It's all uncomfortable." 

"Yeah well, it seems to be doing you more good than it is me," John replied, abandoning his scribbling. "Which is a good thing." 

"Why do you say that?" Rodney leaned his chin on his hands, still peering blearily at 

"Because I don't really know how to help when it comes to this stuff," John replied. "I'm... more an action guy." 

"So tell her that." Rodney shrugged it, and he reached out for John's pen. Just the pen. "Here, I'll write it for you. John is an action guy. I like actions better, too." 

"You can' t write my nightmare Rodney," John said feeling tired and frustrated. It would mean *telling* him for a start. 

"I could try?" Rodney reached for the journal once he had the pen, but he was waiting, waiting to see if John wanted to stop him. He definitely wasn't going to do anything without John's say-so. "I write mine, even though I don't think there's any deeper meaning to them." 

"You don't want to hear my nightmares Rodney," John said trying to dissuade him. "You got enough going on." 

"What I have going on is right now. It's Carson sleeping upstairs and a lot of documentation to get through on some pretty fantastic science, and you down here trying to do this on your own. You and Carson won't make *me* go it alone, so I'm not going to *let* you." 

"Look, Rodney if I start doing this I'm likely to get angry and I try and... stay clear when I'm like that," John tried one final time. He'd felt bad enough about shocking Rodney into the reaction with nakedness and the collar. After that, he just stayed away until he calmed down. 

"I'm all right with that." Rodney kept his hand on the journal, and finally started to pull it across towards him on the table. 

John nearly reached for it but he was too damn tired to stop him. "Go ahead. Read it. Sure there's some really *interesting* things in there." 

And already he was defensive. 

"You can read mine." Yeah, and Rodney had hardly any concept of privacy, so why would *he* be bothered by John reading his? Rodney folded his arms, still slumped tiredly as he peered at the page, scanning it. "If I haven't said it lately, I'd still like to meet your father." 

"He undoubtedly would hate you and Carson on principle. Possibly as much as he seems to hate me. He favors a nephew at the moment. He, of course, was a Major impossibly early." He replied trying not to feel unsettled. 

"I just want to punch him in the nose," Rodney drawled, turning backwards a page. "Who was the man with the Goa'uld in his head?" 

"My buddy Captain Holland. I killed the original host then... it jumped ship," John said and grimaced. "I went back for him..." 

"And it had moved?" Rodney asked that honestly. He was still getting a handle of the bizarre things the SGC came up against. 

"I didn't know it had him until the first time he tried to kill me," John replied. And that had hurt as well, and the fact that he knew he couldn't save him. 

Rodney shifted, pushed his chair back, and John had no idea what he was going to do. It was hard to guess, except Rodney only dragged the chair over to John's side of the table, dragging the Journal with him, too. "Is there any way to get them out without killing the host? Was there then?" 

"Not so far," John replied. "Unless the damn thing moves on its own." Which was very unlikely. 

"Then you couldn't have done anything." Rodney flipped back to where John had stopped, and picked up the pen. "Even though you wanted to." 

"That doesn't mean I can walk away from it Rodney," John said. "I don't do that. I'd never do that." 

"You shouldn't. He was your friend. But you shouldn't blame yourself." Rodney picked up the pen, and started to write in the journal. 

"What are you writing?" he asked as he slouched in his chair. "This is a stupid idea... really stupid Rodney." 

"It's two am, John." Rodney wrote a little more, and then cleared his throat. "'At this point, John was writing in the kitchen and I startled him. John is more of an action man than a thought man, and thinks the journal is stupid. We're going to try talking about the nightmare instead.'" And he closed the book. 

"So if I talk about it I don't get it written down?" John said and he could go along with that. "That's a plan I can work with." 

"I think so." Rodney even laid the pen on the top of the closed journal. "So, your friend had a snake-symbiote in his head." 

"An evil snake symbiote," John shrugged. "We cat-and-moused around this cave system. I kept shooting him. He kept getting up and shooting back." 

"What happened then?" Rodney's curiosity wasn't probing. It was sleepy and open minded and honestly curious, because he might know how the story ended, but he didn't know what happened in between. 

"I ran out of ammunition." John could still remember that helpless feeling. "Except grenades. I took a hit, pretended to go down, waited and pulled the pin on the grenade. Blew the cave up." 

"With you in it?" Rodney's voice went up a little, startled. 

"Yeah. The original fucking up of the knee and the reason for medical leave. I got semi pinned and... Leo... was there dead next to me. Hole in his chest. And then this snake thing started crawling out over to him..." 

"Was this in the dream, too?" 

"Yes." John admitted that much. "In real life it went: I pulled my hand free, caught it and then beat its head in with a rock. In the dream it..." He started to lose his thread. "It went somewhere different." 

Rodney was sitting close at his side, and he hadn't really noticed how close until he reached that point in the nightmare. "Where? Neck?" 

"No..." John didn't move. "Downwards." He felt stupid for being so hazy with details. "Look, I had a nightmare I was trapped and being raped by a Go'auld symbiote okay? Don't ask me why, I just did." 

Rodney shifted and looped an arm carefully over his shoulders, one finger snagging briefly on his undershirt. "There's no why." 

"There's probably some deep reason, some psychobabble crap," John said trying not to be stressed about it. "Fuck, I should just... go to bed or something." 

"It sounds like the worst thing your brain could think of." Rodney leaned into him, more awake seeming but still calm. "What was it... Sometimes a Cigar is just a Cigar?" 

"Sometime an evil alien snake thing is just an evil alien snake thing," John countered. 

"Right. And I'd wake up in a cold sweat if I dreamt about it trying to get in my ass." 

"Thanks Rodney, I don't really need to think about it too hard," John replied and sighed. "I had plans. They didn't involve being a sexual fuck-up." 

Rodney was quiet, arm still draped over John's shoulders. "Do you think I'm a sexual fuck-up?" 

"No. You're doing the best out of all of us," John answered, without having to think. 

"Why? You and Carson argued over the milk a couple of weeks ago, and I stripped naked and put a collar on. How does that not make me a sexual fuck up? I wanted to offer blowjobs all around if everyone just calmed down." 

"Rodney, Rodney, you can't help it okay? I should be okay with this. I want to be okay with this because I want..." He grimaced again. "Before Kolya, I would think... it would be good to be your experience of topping someone okay? Last think I want to do is lose my nerve with you." 

"It's not your fault. You can't help it. He hurt you. It's not just something to shrug off. He put a plug in you that I've spent years hating because it hurts and you can't fight it at all, just... shock after shock until he's bored of it." Rodney's mouth stretched into a tight line, and he pressed his lips against John's shoulder. "When we get there, I want to be *me*, not a collection of training." 

"Yeah, well, me too," John said relaxing a little at the fact that Rodney did not seem to freak out at the kiss. "I haven't, uh, done anything, because I don't know what is the wrong thing to do I guess. With you." 

"I think the only way to find out is to try?" Rodney leaned back only a little, still close to John. 

"I don't want to hurt you," John replied. "You were hurt, too, when we got out of there." Just because he appeared to be used to it didn't matter, that didn't mean there should be more pain on top of it all. 

"Normal day for me, really." Rodney shifted, crowding close to him now, voice a little tipped -- tipped something, John didn't know. Rodney sounded like he was coming out on the other side of tired. "I trust you." 

Maybe that was the most intimidating thing of all. Rodney did trust him. "I don't want that to be a normal day for you. I want you to feel good. I don't want you to be thinking, hey this is all they want." 

"Right, well, if it's all you want you've been being seriously deprived of it. And willing to put up with everything else I do." Rodney stayed where he was, but he did reach for John's pen again. Probably to just fiddle. 

John hesitated. "Rodney, what do you want? I mean... really." 

Rodney twisted the pen in his fingers, and pulled it back to his lap. "What do I want. I want to work again. I want to work, and I want... I want to keep you alive." 

"That's a goal I can agree with," John replied with a smile. "What about getting closer? You going to be able to tell me... us when you're ready for that?" 

"I've been ready for it. It's just that you and Carson are all wound up. I'm not -- I don't even have expectations on what normal relations are like. Acastus was the first person I was ever with. It's only up from here." 

He had a point. He had been tense about it. "Did you like what we did before?" 

"Yeah." Rodney slouched a little more, pressed his cheek against John's shoulder. "I did." 

"Do you uh... wanna maybe start there again? Only if you want it. I don't want you thinking I *don't* want you," John said and then added hastily. "I'm more worried I'll want you too much." 

"Sometimes, I wonder. Heightmeyer says I worry too much about what you think, which is hilarious because I really don't care what half the world, no, more, thinks of me. My students hated me, and well they should have." Rodney shifted, and one leg of his chair creaked, because he was putting his hip on the seat, curling into John like they were on the sofa instead of two kitchen chairs side by side. "I still think of myself as Rodney for work, and the puppy at home." 

"I want you to be Rodney here at home. For... everything. I want to know how you kiss when it's you wanting the kiss," John murmured. "Because then I know I'm not being some sick bastard taking advantage of you like I did before." 

The chair creaked again, and Rodney shifted against his side, sat up straight and reached for his shoulders. John didn't have to give in to Rodney's manipulations like that, but if Rodney wanted him to face him, then he might as well. He was starting to feel like he might be able to sleep again, soon. 

And then Rodney leaned up and kissed him. 

That was the difference, there. A different edge, a different feel. A wanting that had been missing before even despite the passion. And dear god, he was more desperate for that sort of contact than he had let himself believe because he wasn't hesitating in responding, just reaching for more. 

More felt different, too, less surprised and less conniving, because they weren't playing to an audience who was listening and probably jacking off to it. Rodney wasn't under orders to let John do what he wanted. He twisted in the chair, knee pressed against John's knees, and cupped John's chin with one hand, the other arm sliding around behind his back. 

Less pain, less bruises than every night chasing down would-be killers and it felt good. Good enough that he practically lifted Rodney to get him closer, so he could kiss deeper and touch more and show him he'd never been a *job*. He was more to John and more to Carson than just a job, and there was no question that Rodney was attached to them, could *really* want them, because he was kissing John like that, like the world might end if he had to stop. 

And then the coffee pot's 'coffee burning now' timer started to beep. 

It took a while for the sound to penetrate but he eventually drew back a little. "You think I could carry you over there so I don't have to let go?" he asked with a smile. 

"You'll put something on your back open. Anyway. I've started to put on weight." Oh, and John wanted to call bullshit on that, but Rodney shifted, stood up sleepily, and John could tell that he was looking, if not heavier, *healthier*. 

"You feel good. But you should get some sleep. You're tired," he pointed out. He was tired as well. 

"Only if you come to bed." Rodney held a hand out. "C'mon. We can put the coffee in cups in the fridge and make cheap frappachinos for breakfast." 

"Yeah, okay." He took Rodney's hand, willing to let him lead. One kiss and things suddenly looked a whole lot better. Better than nightmares in the middle of the night 

Rodney clutched his hand, and started him towards the kitchen, blearily describing how one of his students had sworn that freezing coffee that way worked. John figured they'd find out in time. They could find out a lot in time.

* * *

Carson had to admit that going *out* to celebrate had been a good idea. Rodney was way too hyped to not destroy the kitchen or turn it into something that could defy the normal laws of time and space after he received his sign off to go up to the mountain because he was officially "sane" enough. 

John had rather sheepishly admitted that he had completed his compulsory course of counseling as well, and he himself was officially "recovered". It seemed like the perfect excuse for a celebration. 

And he had been looking forward to food like this, even if he was feeling full before the dessert was brought out. 

Carson considered how long he could just bloat in peace, even as he listened to John and Rodney half bicker. The interaction was always there. Always something. John was magnetic like that. 

"You have to leave the frosting for me," Rodney was half demanding, spoon poised even as the waitress laughed and set the huge -- really, deviously huge, and Carson was glad that the woman had warned Rodney it was more than enough for two men to split, if they were so inclined -- cake/ice-cream/chocolate and caramel sauce creation down on the table in front of them. Rodney was comfortably butted up to the inside of the booth, and one leg was stuck lazily out, resting against Carson's beneath the table. 

"Are you kidding?" John replied. "No way. You said half and that's what you'll get." He was smiling though and he looked relaxed. It was a good look on him 

"Even though I'm not having a dessert like that, I wouldn't mind trying a wee bit myself." He'd thought the cheesecake had looked a little less likely to cause death by calories than the pudding of doom. 

Rodney eyed it for a moment, and pushed his spoon through the side, getting a little of everything on it before he leaned against the edge of the table to offer it to Carson. "You can do the honors. I'm afraid it might not taste as good as it looks. This should possibly be illegal."

He tasted the offering and it was everything he suspected. Rich, overwhelming and sinfully delicious. "Dear god, there will be a warrant out for both of your arrests, I'm telling you." 

Rodney pulled his spoon back, eyes fixed a little dreamily on the plate. "And tomorrow, I have a new job." 

"Aye, well we'll all be checking in up there tomorrow, " Carson said. "Dr Frasier will've forgotten who I am." 

It was only half a joke. He had felt a little superfluous in general. Perhaps his research wasn't the big deal that he thought. No one seemed in a hurry for it. 

"No one could forget you Carson," John said, stealthily stealing back part of the dessert. 

Rodney seemed unphased, and started for the frosting and caramel-soaked cake part first. "They just wanted to make sure you had time to recover. Heightmeyer asked after you..." 

"I hope you said I was fine," Carson replied as he had his own bit of cheesecake that was a lot plainer but still creamy and wonderful. "I managed to avoid the gamut of therapy and I can now walk up and down stairs without the aid of a safety net." 

"I could've used one of those," John said dryly. 

"You only tripped over Waffle the once." Rodney almost demurred it. He was starting to get his sense of humor, bizarre as it was, back. Some days he was better than others, and some days he nearly pushed both of them to fall apart around him. 

"You know, he's probably been waiting to have the house to himself," John replied. "He's probably invited all his cool friends around now, and they're... sniffing butts, drinking beer and shedding all over the house right now. Someone will call the MP's." 

"We live on a military base. How is anyone going to notice anything unusual?" Carson quipped back. For all Rodney's progress, there had been incidences. 

Sometime he would drop into puppy mode without noticing and he'd have to guide him out. Now it was easier, since that really bad incident where he couldn't get Rodney out of it. He couldn't break him out of that zone and in the end, it had been John ordering him that had ended it. Snapping with a military bark that seemed to bypass conscious control in Rodney and force him to respond. 

Which was good to know, that one of them could do it, scare or startle Rodney into action again, into thinking and reacting like Rodney again. Carson hadn't been able to manage it, and he still worried about what would happen if John went somewhere on a mission. 

He'd have to get Evan to come over and yell at him. 

"The barking might clue them in." 

He'd raised his voice but he didn't have that... something John did and even if John didn't like it -- okay, he loathed it and the major had turned around, gone out and Carson hadn't been sure he was ever coming back -- but sometimes it was necessary. 

"Waffle's too smart to be caught out like that, "Carson said. 

"No dog of mine would not have a back-up plan," John added in. 

"I doubt cowering behind the sofa, or licking an MP to death counts." 

John shrugged, the movement finally not hitching in pain. "No one said it had to be a *good* back-up plan." 

"A badly thought out backup plan. He might accidentally cute them to death in our absence." Rodney gestured up to the side of his head, like he had a flop-ear. "He's been spoiled with so much attention lately." 

"Not like he doesn't deserve it," Carson pointed out. "Even if he does sometimes sneak on the Master bed." 

When the pair of them were off, disappeared in the night. He kept his smile but some of the feeling slipped just a little and he caught John narrowing his eyes. 

"He's a rebel," John said easily enough, looking at him speculatively. 

It only made sense that the two of them would do that, even if Carson had hoped that it could really *be* the three of them together. But he hadn't been well, and, well, his physical recovery had lagged behind theirs. It had just happened, and he wasn't going to hold it against Rodney. 

"What was that movie we watched the other night?" Rodney asked, swiping up another spoonful. 

"Which one? The one with the very fast and dangerous looking cars, or where you criticize the construction of the DeathStar?" Carson asked. 

John grinned. "Did I tell you Rodney thinks he could make a pod-bike?" 

"Pffft, that was a very late, late night insomnia moment. See, the coffee filters got rolled up and shoved behind the, uh..." Rodney gestured for a moment, almost chewing on his spoon. "Oh! Sugar and flour canister, and I thought that it was really just a matter of creating a decent aerodynamic front piece to the thing and some ingenuity, which I have in spades, and voila." 

"A flying sugar canister?" Carson asked. He missed out on these late night insomnia moments. He wanted his sleep but also he wanted to have this shared experience. To catch up somehow. 

"I'd need a bigger one to ride Rodney," John said. "Or the X-wings....c'mon, every pilot wants one of those." 

"Waste of resources for a pretty special effect. You might want one, but you wouldn't want to *fly* one. A... a more aerodynamic, well, can shape would definitely work. It's something I'm letting sit in the back of my mind." 

"If I'm *really* good will you build me a prototype super-plane?"

Carson looked down and ate his cheesecake. It wasn't really jealousy. Just a sort of wistful wanting. 

"Maybe. We'll see." Rodney shifted his leg, and offered Carson another spoonful of his desert. "You look like you're moping, Carson. We all get to go back to work tomorrow." 

"Me? I'm not moping," he denied the fact. "I'm... mmmm..." 

It went very well with the smooth vanilla of the cheesecake. 

"He's thinking he's missing out," John put in, still eating. 

And John probably picked up on the second layer of that comment, while Rodney didn't quite. Or if he did, he never let on, which was frustrating most times, and only pleasantly surprising occasionally. "You don't have to." 

Carson flushed a little, embarrassed. "Aye well, you and John are, obviously happy doing uh..." 

"We're not obviously doing anything," John said, 

"If we've been obviously doing anything, I'd like to be let in on it." Rodney took his spoon back, and severed a sizable chunk of the dessert to slide it onto Carson's plate. 

"Rodney keeps stopping after kissing," John confided in Carson. "I think it's some sort of experiment to see if he can make me explode with sexual tension." 

"So you haven't been... I mean..." Carson frowned. "I thought the pair of you had started... well, without me." 

"I sleep light. John has nightmares. That's where all the strange things we've been trying for breakfast have come from." Rodney shifted a little, cheeks tinting red, eyes sliding down a little. He wasn't lying, wasn't hiding anything, but it was probably something about the making John explode with sexual tension. It was just Rodney dealing with things at his own pace. 

"Oh. Oh I just assumed..." 

John gave him the half smile that Carson was convinced the man practiced because it was definitely not something normal people could do. "You think we'd do anything without you?" 

"Well, I've been lagging behind on recovery and there really wasn't any reason for you to wait for me," Carson said feeling a little flustered himself now the subject was being discussed in public. 

It wasn't as if it was taboo, but he wasn't used to, well, to discussing things. relationship things, least of all in a restaurant like that. "Yes there is. Because it's *you*." 

"What he said," John said easily. "Question is... is are you okay enough that I won't be thinking maybe we should be taking you to the hospital half way through." 

"Aye, well I'm fit enough now," Carson said and he knew he was blushing now. 

"And you're not just saying it?" Rodney leaned to one side a little, sneaking ice-cream out from under John. 

"No, no, I'm definitely recovered enough for that," Carson replied. 

"Well that's resolved the 'movie' or home argument for after dinner," John replied. "Because we've got plans..." 

"Plans?" It nearly came out as an embarrassing squeak. 

"Sort of," Rodney admitted, once he'd swallowed his goo and ice-cream mix. "Vague plans. Going home and having some semi-traditional fun plans." 

"Nothing vague about mine," John said and Carson was beginning to wonder how desperate John was as he seemed more than willing to discuss this. "Although I'm flexible and I improvise as and when." 

"Yes, I uh." There was no denying that he was thinking hard about it. "Are the both of you ready, though?" 

Because Rodney was still a bit back and forth about sex, and the last thing Carson wanted to happen was to accidentally bring out 'Puppy Rodney', as Carson had started to mentally refer to him as. "I want to give it a shot." 

"I think we're able to find something that will work," John said. "I've got a few ideas." He shrugged as if he wasn't the one who had been having nightmares. "Although we did sort of realize that we didn't know what you like." 

"What I like? What, in... uh..." Carson looked around. "Perhaps we should finish up and think about getting home before talking about all of that." 

Rodney threw him a brief, wicked smile. "Okay. When we're done, we can talk about it at home." 

Rather unsurprisingly, the dessert and meal was finished in what had to be record time after that discussion. John and Rodney even passed up the opportunity for coffee, as Carson paid the bill. Apparently they were going to set up some sort of joint account for things like this and the running of the house and pay into it, but that was something on the to do list. 

John had been eager to get back as well from the way he drove, and Carson had sudden visions of them being dragged off to spend a night in jail after being pulled over. It wasn't exactly rational but it was his sort of luck. 

His luck notwithstanding, they made it back in record time. 

In one piece. 

Carson really should've expected that Rodney would sneak up behind him while he fumbled for the keys to unlock the front door, sliding his arms around Carson from behind. 

He nearly dropped the keys but then smiled. "I wasn't expecting that... you were lucky I didn't flail." 

"Lorne says he's never seen you flail in his life," John added, jogging up behind them all. 

"He must've been walking around with his eyes closed then," Carson pointed out as he opened the door to the over excitable presence of Waffle. 

Waffle was always happy to see them, to see Rodney, and his tail thumped wildly even as he backed up to give them space to actually get in the door. "No, we didn't bring home a treat for you, Waffle..." Rodney murmured it, even as he stayed close to Carson while they walked in. It was nice, that Rodney was doing that, as if he suddenly had permission to do something he'd seen Rodney do a hundred times to John. 

Perhaps they had been more worried than he thought over him. Admittedly it had been a very serious injury and yes, he knew he was a bad patient and he had scared them when Rodney had kissed him and he'd folded up in a heap. Perhaps he had scared them more than he had believed. John petted Waffle, even as they went in and then shut the door behind them. 

"So then, now I am curious, what have you two been discussing?" Carson asked 

"Planning, you mean?" Rodney tilted his head a little, pressed a kiss against the side of Carson's neck, and shifted closer against his back. "We've had a lot of discussions. About sex." 

"Mm," John said as he finished distracting Waffle with some food. "I said that maybe we should do something Rodney hasn't done before so there wouldn't be memories there..." 

"This isn't going to involve hanging from chandeliers or something is it?" Carson asked. "Only I know I said I was recovered but that might be pushing it." 

"Done that," Rodney deadpanned, and Carson had a horrifying moment where he wanted to believe him -- until he felt the smile against the side of his neck. "I've never been on top." 

"What, never?" Carson asked, even though he knew the answer. 

"Apparently not, " John said. "So this is where it gets a bit complicated because we actually don't know whether you like to bottom, top or you're like me and go whichever way the mood takes you." 

"So I'm for going whichever way the mood takes you," Rodney murmured. His hands were shifting, though, sliding up to play with the buttons of Carson's shirt. 

"Well, I, I've done both," Carson said. "And I like both so I won't see any of that as a problem." 

"I wanted to be the first, but..." John shrugged. "Rodney's worried about me freaking out or something." He seemed content to watch what Rodney was doing at that point. 

"If I freak out and you freak out, then Carson will freak out and we'll all be too sedated in the morning to go to work. Get comfortable with your body first, then work your way back there." Rodney was quoting his therapist, Carson knew, but it didn't make the moment any weirder than it had already been. He pressed more soft kisses to Carson's neck, slowly worming the shirt off of him, hands lightly caressing Carson's chest, over new scars. 

"Seems sensible..." He inhaled sharply at the contrast in touch. "Can we at least do this on the bed?" 

John laughed a low chuckle. "Rodney's just a little bit eager. So am I. We pretty much thought that it would be good to do something for you Carson." 

"Whatever you want." Which didn't sound much like a plan, actually, but asking to do it in a bed got Rodney crowding him forwards carefully, still not letting go. There was no way they'd make it up the stairs like that. 

He chuckled a little. "What I want to do is to make it up the stairs without tripping over, and then... whatever I want... well, I think I want to see what your combined imaginations can come up with. My experience is somewhat limited." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Rodney slid his arms down, low, loosely wrapped around Carson's waist, and sucked against his neck. "You smell good." 

"And you both look good. but, c'mon. Up the stairs." John must have put a hand on Rodney's back, because he finally started to move. 

He wasn't sure how this was going to work, but right now just the prospect was exciting enough to have him half hard. He wanted Rodney to touch him, he wanted to feel what John would be like with all those hard muscle lines doing something rather than sleeping beside him. 

He went over to the bed when they reached the bedroom and then smiled. This was really going to happen. After all this time. 

"Now you've got me here, what are you going to do?" he asked with a slight smile. 

"That's what we're still deciding. The mechanics of *three* is something I haven't really had experience with." Rodney paused for a moment, gesturing John over. "Unless you count some pretty interesting dreams." 

John took off his jacket and flung it over the back of a chair. "Very interesting dreams. Rodney has a few kinks to explore. Personally I think he's going to turn out to like topping a lot. We had a bit of a dispute about who should suck your cock first..." 

"Oh yes?" Carson said, swallowing hard as his throat went dry. 

"So we decided to do it together," John announced and looked smug. 

"Once you're naked," Rodney added, but Carson's dick was already there, already anticipating what that would feel like, two sets of lips, John and Rodney either down on their knees or hovering over him on the bed. Rodney's hands slid down, unbuckled his belt. 

"Just the thought of it is enough," he said, even as John slid his hands around Rodney's waist to undo his pants. That was a sight to behold, watching the belt slide away and hands move even as his own pants slid down. 

"Bloody Hell..." Carson murmured even as John took a moment to loosen his shirt. 

Rodney slipped his thumbs into the waistband of Carson's underwear, smiling. "I could really drag this out." 

"Aye you could, but then I might've just passed out from the anticipation," Carson joked and John seemed to enjoy just watching them. 

"Rodney is looking a little like you've given him the best present ever," John murmured. 

"You did. You both got me out of there alive, and everything I worked to have, I can have now. A home and safety, and work and love that doesn't wound or need control." The work or the love, Carson supposed, but Rodney might be surprised the next time something went wrong at the base, and oh, oh, god, Rodney palmed the head of his dick lightly, leaving Carson's underwear caught around his thighs. 

"Rodney, I should remind you I haven't had sex in a very long time," Carson pointed out. Even from *before* he'd met Rodney. 

"Join the club," John replied. "Though not as long as you." 

"I'm going to refrain from comment," Rodney shrugged. "But there's sex, and then there's... sex." Rodney's voice lowered, tilted quieter, and he gave him a lazy stroke. 

"I should warn you, when it comes to this, I have very little stamina in holding back," Carson replied as the feel of someone else's hands on him made him quiver. So did the sight of John very seriously and intently working Rodney's shirt loose. 

"I'm pretty sure you could get it up twice. I'm basing this on very little evidence. I know John can manage twice, and Acastus could get to about three in a reasonable period of time..." Rodney leaned in, kissed him again, full on the lips while he half helped John get him undressed. 

With the two of them in front of him, he was pretty sure he could get it up twice as well. "You're probably right." 

"Don't make me get competitive," John murmured. "One day, I'm going to beat that just so I ...can beat that score." 

His pants were being pulled down now, by easy and familiar hands. 

"Some weekend. That way if anyone asks what you did on the weekend, you can just smirk." Rodney shrugged a little to help John with the pants, moving like he was used to being undressed. It was hard to think of Rodney so vulnerable that way to whatever Kolya wanted to do to him. He never wanted that to happen with them, for Rodney to think he had no choices. 

"I'd do that anyway," John replied. "That's why I've got a reputation." 

His socks were pulled off and Rodney was naked, John was down to his boxers and Carson was somehow about the same sort of level and hadn't even noticed how. 

Probably around when Rodney got his hand around his dick, because he'd been subtly, slowly touching and stroking Carson since. Then he looked at John over his shoulder, and started to kneel down. The movement was fluid, trained in and beautiful in a way, because Rodney was on his knees, pressing his lips to the head of Carson's cock. 

"Oh my..." Carson was glad he had been sitting on the bed because he would've fallen. And then passed out, because John did the same thing and managed to be half straddling Rodney, even as he leaned around to get his mouth to touch him from the side. 

Both of them, cheek to cheek, mouths on his dick, and god, he could come just from looking at them like that, Rodney's lean face flushed and eyes wide, concentrating on him, fingers sliding back to touch his balls, and John right beside him, all playful good looks, doing the exact same. 

"Oh god, oh... " He had to close his eyes for a moment otherwise it would all be over but then he could feel two mouths on him, two tongues. They tangled in sensation, and he opened his eyes to John and Rodney teasing each other as much as him. 

John was part licking at him, and then nibbling at Rodney's lips stretched around his cock. Kissing over, around him, making his dick twitch while they alternated who was sucking on him the most. Rodney would pull off, let John take him in for a moment, and then they'd switch, with soft wet noises that made his balls tighten. 

He'd never had someone suck him off like this before. He wasn't sure anyone outside of porn films had. Fuck. And then one of them had his cock in their mouth and the other had his balls and... Jesus, they were humming something and he wasn't sure who. 

Somewhere in the proceedings he worked out what the song was and tried to stop laughing in among his gasps. "John, are you humming Ring of Fire?" He didn't get an answer, not a real one, but there was an affirmative sounding hum while Rodney twisted, slid under a little, to suck at the underside of the base of his dick. 

Long live Johnny Cash, Carson managed to think before Rodney hit a spot he never knew he had, because it was like a jolt of pleasure catching fire down there and he was more than ready to try pushing up at them both but the moment he flexed his hips, there were strong arms keeping him firmly in place so he couldn't do anything but groan as the attention continued. 

That had to be John, and he'd somehow managed to be sucking on his cock again while Rodney had shifted. He wasn't going to last much longer. 

And that was all right, because it had to be the best moment, the best orgasm he'd had in a long time. Two men, both of them lavishing attention on him, Rodney playing at his balls and sucking the underside of his cock, John with his arm keeping him still and his lips wrapped tight around the head of Carson's dick while he sucked. 

And there it was, as irresistible and wonderful as he remembered. His body wanted to push hard and thrust as he came, and he tried enough as he climaxed hard enough to leave him loose limbed in a post-orgasmic euphoria. 

He felt fantastic and he knew he was grinning hazily as the other two shifted up onto the bed with him. 

"Fun so far," John smiled. 

Rodney was slower to join him on the bed, content to kneel there for a moment with his head on Carson's thigh. "Mmhm." 

"I don't think... even porn gets to be that good. It's probably illegal or something," Carson managed, registering that John was apparently now naked and more than a little hard himself as he leaned into him. 

"You okay Rodney?" John said after resting his arm over Carson's stomach, fingers exploring the surgery scars. The touch was strangely sensitive. 

"Mmhm. Just enjoying this." Rodney leaned and licked a line along Carson's soft dick, enough pressure to make him ache. 

"It seems a little one sided. I got the best out of that position," Carson said and managed not to sigh at the sensation. 

"Don't worry, we're not going to go without," John replied, watching Rodney. "I'm pretty selfish when it comes to that." 

"I've found a lot of enjoyment in giving more than getting." Rodney turned his head, kissed Carson's thigh, and seemed to be gathering the energy to shake off any possible fugue state. 

"I kinda want to balance that up some, " John murmured, and his hand was still teasing over the scar tissue on Caron's stomach. His own mapped over the lightly curling chest hair. "Getting can be pretty damn good." 

"On the basis of that experience? Definitely." Carson added. 

Rodney shifted one more time, and pressed his lips against Carson's stomach, back stretched out in a way that Carson could see all of the whipping scars overlapping each other, old and new making a thick crisscross over his skin. It was that marking that had made him first decide that something had to be done for Rodney. "This is just nice, though. I can do what I want, even if I'm not sure what it is." 

"That is the general idea," John replied and his fingers migrated to touch Rodney's back. "Whatever feels good. I get to coach Rodney in his first effort. Make sure you're all ready for him..." 

"What about you?" Carson asked, comfortable with the warmth half sprawled on him. 

Rodney shifted up, pressed his back against John's fingers. "If you want to, John you can have me. It's, it's trust me, something I was interested in before and I'm still interested in now..." But probably at the same time was a bad idea, given how Carson wasn't sure how steady Rodney was. One way, then the other, well. Carson could enjoy receiving and watching. 

John smiled. "Not tonight Rodney. Maybe if Carson out lasts you....?" 

Now that was an offer Carson hadn't been expecting. "You want to have me too?" He wasn't sure if he was going to be up to that though the idea had a definite appeal. 

"No, no... the other way around," John replied tracing lazy shapes on skin. 

"I'll help," Rodney offered. Even though hadn't they just been saying that John wasn't sure about that? 

"Sounds like a plan," John replied. 

"But John I thought we just talked about... you know..." 

"You're not him, and maybe my reputation is a little bit true," John replied. "Nothing yet has managed to put me off and I want it from you." 

Which wasn't what Carson had expected to hear. Rodney seemed to think about it for a moment, and shifted to lay on the bed with them, kissing at Carson's chest lazily. "John bought lube the last time he was out." 

"You're a regular boy scout," Carson said smiling, still wondering if John was trying to convince himself as much as them. 

"Part of every black ops kit," John said with a smirk and he seemed to start in on massaging Rodney's tension away in preparation for whatever came next. 

"That wouldn't particularly surprise me," Rodney murmured. John's hands were petting at him, and it made Carson wonder if he should do the same, even though Rodney was laying against his side, kissing his way over to a nipple. "Makes electricity more conductive than dry skin." 

"Never had to torture what I could seduce," John said and Carson couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He wasn't sure he could imagine John actually torturing someone for information, but he could imagine the seducing. 

He reached for the bedside drawer, fumbling around for the lube. "You've done this often?" 

Carson cleared his throat. "Aye, well not for a few years. When I was with Lorne things were fairly free and easy in that squad." 

Free and easy in all the good ways. Not deep, meaningful relationships, no, but there was something to be said for a well timed buddy fuck. "Free and easy in interesting ways?" Rodney's voice canted up a little, and he leaned up even further, to kiss Carson on the lips instead of just playing with him. 

"Aye well, people can sometimes get very close to their doctors," Carson recalled. "And life and death situations make for intense connections." 

He hadn't lost any of them, though it had come damn close way too many times and he'd seen pain in their eyes too many times. He leaned into the kiss even as John moved his hands again reaching towards his thighs. 

"They do," Rodney murmured, shifting again, nudging his lips against the juncture where Carson's earlobe and jaw met, open mouthed and lazy. 

The attention was wonderful. Fantastic. After feeling a need for human contact and a spark of something a little like jealousy at the thought Rodney and John were carrying on without him, this was like salvation. He loved the feel of them both, how wonderful they were as they nuzzled at him and each other. He was starting to pick out their different styles in, get a feel for what was under the surface as they turned their attention to him, making him warm and languid in their arms. 

The first touches of Johns fingers , sliding up against his ass made him stretch invitingly. 

He wanted that. He wanted John's fingers and Rodney's cock, wanted all of their attention, and they were willing to give it to him, and if he hadn't felt so good, he might have felt a bit like a heel for how he'd suspected them earlier. 

But he wasn't going to. Rodney kissed at him, alternating between sweet and passionate, pressing his erection against John's thigh. 

He could hear John murmuring instructions to Rodney even as fingers teased. "He probably didn't do enough of this Rodney. There's no such thing as too much lube... seriously. And I know he probably didn't take time over this... You want them stretched before you do anything. Unless you're into that other stuff." 

Rodney smirked a little. "I know it was pretty screwed up, John, but we weren't in a cave in the woods. He knew how to use lube, and I think that I remember enough of my personal tastes to try." He shifted a little, leaning to peer at John for a moment. "Or I could just watch you." 

"Or you could try it on me," John replied. "My own experience with him didn't leave me sure whether he knew about it or not." 

"Okay. Turnabout, fair play," Rodney murmured, kissing at Carson's neck again. 

Carson let himself relax to John's rather expert teasing and preparation. Fingers slowly penetrating, slick and smooth. He also got the pleasure of seeing John's expression when Rodney started to do the same to him. 

"Nice and slow," Rodney murmured, smirking as he ran his other hand over Carson's chest again. 

"You do this to me, I'm gonna want hard and fast at the end, "John replied and his eyes were half lidding every now and then as his attention wandered. 

"I don't think that will be a problem if you are touching me like that again," Carson answered. The fingers burned only a little, gentle as they pushed inwards and slid back. Carson was very sure that if he hadn't come once already, this would be more than enough. 

As it was, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that ready, the last time he'd had quite that amount of time spent loosening him up to be fucked. Rodney was lazy against his side, petting him and just seeming to enjoy that he was allowed to explore Carson, even as slowly as he was doing it, while his other hand teased at John's ass. 

In the mean time, he was certainly feeling ready enough, everything relaxed and wanting inside. 

"Rodney, how ready are you?" he heard John murmur. 

"Hard as a bullet." Which Carson was sure of, since he was still pressing against Carson's thigh, hip, all dependent on how he was moving. 

Carson felt the fingers removed and sighed a little, even as warm hands turned him over onto his front, fetching pillows for him to lean into. It was such a simple, comforting feeling that he could see why Rodney said he associated John with safety and protection. 

"We won't be folding you up facing him just yet," John murmured. "Now kneel up behind him Rodney. I'm sure you can work out slot A and tab B..." 

"With my complicated doctorate in engineering degree, yes." Rodney better than knew how to work it out. He nudged Carson's knees further apart, fingers sliding down his crack teasingly for a moment. "God, if you could see what you look like." 

"I'm more into... feeling right now," Carson replied feeling a jolt of anticipation that he'd almost forgotten that he used to feel when this happened. 

"It's a very nice view," John contributed and he could feel his hand sliding over his ass as well. It was all too easy to imagine the two of them back there, exchanging looks and touches. John probably bumped his hips against Rodney's, because there was a vague jolt of motion and Rodney laughed before he slid two fingers into Carson, slowly. 

"Just checking that John did this well enough... Sex is better slick." 

It was enough to get him trying to move some more. "Rodney, I was counting on you needing to fuck me here..." 

The fingers had woken a desire in him that ached with need. "I need to. I'm used to holding out, dragging things out..." Rodney's voice tipped towards teasing, and he pulled his fingers back, and fuck, there, there was the slick pressure of the head of his dick. 

"Let me help you," he heard John murmur, and oh god, not only was it pushing in, but he had the mental image of John holding Rodney's cock and directing it for him. 

He gasped a little, made a noise as he felt the obvious effects of not having done this in a while. 

"Oh, ohh, god." Rodney's fingers clutched at his hips, unsteady. He whimpered a little, but it wasn't a worrisome sound to Carson's ears, and he kept pushing in, until his hips rested against Carson's asscheeks. 

"Just hold there, Rodney," John said in a soft voice. "How's it feeling?" 

It took Carson a moment to swim up enough from sensation to realize John had leaned over to ask him that question. 

"Bloody fantastic. Large... burning." 

"Rodney, how does it feel?" 

Rodney exhaled, another low whine. "Hhn, amazing." He rocked a little, wiggled, the bones of his hips pressing against Carson's ass, and the side to side shift of his dick made Carson feel his own muscles moving with Rodney, fluttering and clutching and god. 

He wanted him to move, wanted him to rock back and forth and John's low and easy voice and warm hand gentling over the spaces where Rodney wasn't touching him made this something more than an experiment to something special and amazing. 

"Please...." 

"I think he wants you to move a little more Rodney," John said amused. 

Another exhale, and Rodney pulled back, slow, before he pushed back in slow. "I don't want to hurt him, I want this to feel good..." 

"It feels good, and believe me, if it looks like he's hurting I'll stop you," John replied even as Carson tried to get enough breath and thought together to speak. 

That was cut off by the movement and instead he managed a low, partially muffled moan. 

"Okay." Rodney's voice was rough in his ears, strained, but he still could hear it slide towards more of a noise than a word, and he slowly fell into a rhythm. 

It was a good rhythm, one that was easy to relax into and let wash over him in thrusts of sensation. Rodney certainly had control and after a while he wanted a different angle because it was just scraping a flickering burn when he thrust in that made him want more. 

And then he felt John's hands under him, under his stomach and hip, moving him just a little, trying a different angle here and there until *there* it was and he cried out as Rodney found the spot and Carson clenched hard around him. 

He heard Rodney groan, felt him shift and thrust harder, moving a little faster, losing a little control, but it was still no-where near hurting him. 

"It's, it's okay... not gonna hurt me..." he managed though he wasn't sure how much Rodney could hear. He was hard again but not likely to come yet and that was good because there was a hint of guilt about feeling this good. 

John must've heard because he could hear him murmur and kiss Rodney as he was thrusting. "He's loving it Rodney, he's wanting more of what you've got. Harder now... that's it, harder and faster. Let go, lose control..." 

He hadn't thought Rodney would, hadn't suspected he could let go like that, but he did, thrusting harder, hips slapping against Carson's ass in fast, needy motions now, and fuck it felt good. 

He just rode the experience until he was feeling like he could come again, but it was a choice not a need even as Rodney seemed to stutter in a rapid desperate burst of movement and he felt a rush of warmth inside of him and he made a noise as the orgasm hit him. 

He could only guess that it was John steadying them both. 

It had to be, because Rodney slumped against his back, breathing hard, making quiet happy noises that went right to the pit of Carson's belly. 

He smiled into the pillow, the glow of doing that, making Rodney happy touching him in a way that he couldn't express. He wanted to feel that all the time, that certain knowledge that something was being fixed, and more than that, something new and wonderful being built at the same time. He loved him, and he loved the strong hand under him, the sound of John murmuring soothing appreciative phrases to Rodney even when he knew the other man had to be tied up in knots with need. 

"That looked great..." he murmured. "Wonderful, incredible like you. Both of you." 

Rodney shifted, sliding a hand along under Carson, until his fingers rested over John's against Carson's stomach. "I think I just figured out the appeal." 

"Aye, I think you definitely did," Carson replied. "That was wonderful Rodney. I have no idea how you managed to last that long. I barely made it through without coming again." 

"I hope you didn't, because otherwise, I'm going to be dealing with myself here," John replied. 

"I could fall asleep right now," Rodney sighed, and Carson decided to take it for the compliment that it sounded like. "Do you need any help, John?" 

"Only if Carson's not up to fucking me senseless," John replied and there was something in his voice that Carson was suddenly completely sure that John was challenging himself, and was relying on the fact that he was all keyed up and desperate to sweep past any lingering barriers. 

Not the way he'd approach therapy for himself but if John wanted to try. 

"Oh, I think I can manage something for you John. What were you aiming for?" 

"You on top." Not Rodney on top, because Rodney knew all of John's nightmares and probably looked worried at the mere thought of it, but Carson. 

"And what sort of style?" Carson said as Rodney moved himself enough that he could turn then and show that he was ready as soon as he got the go ahead. Rodney looked like he was floating on a serious high and that made him smile as well. 

"I want to see you." He turned, shifted to lay on his back beside Carson on the bed. 

"You able to bend that much?" he asked only half serious. John wouldn't suggest it if he were sure. "And are you ready?" 

There was something to say for this sort of cascade effect. 

"I'm ready. Hey, and if I'm not, you'll stop if I ask, right?" That wasn't even something that should have been a question. 

"Of course John," Carson reassured him and shifted over him, looking down. "You know I'd never do anything to harm you." 

John looked up at him. "I'm ready. I'm very ready Carson." 

And so was he. He moved in between John's legs, pushing him back a little so he was in position. 

And Rodney shifted, scooted to lay on his back beside John, a hand sliding out to grab onto John's fingers. "This is amazing." 

"Mmm." He wasn't sure if John would pull away or not, but was oddly touched to see that John held on tight to Rodney's fingers, even as John reached around to pull him into him. Not wanting delays or easing in. Just wanting him inside him. He pushed in carefully, grateful that Rodney had loosened John before he got there. 

He was tight, and Carson moved slowly into him, watching John's face. "Yeah, you're... Yeah." 

"That's... that's all right?" He said pausing as John clenched around him looking into his eyes. John seemed to want to reassure himself that it was safe and fine, and if looking at him gave him that impression that was good. 

"Yeah. That's good, that's, Jesus..." He tipped his head slightly, chin pressed against his chest, and he tipped his hips up. "Yeah." 

He looked relaxed enough, focused enough on feeling that he eased into the gently increasing movement he needed. He wasn't convinced that John did this a lot, but then Carson had always imagined him as more of a top, so this was a revelation in itself. 

It felt fantastic to be doing this not long after feeling it himself. He increased his rate a little and tried to get his legs up to rest on his shoulders if he could, because that was the angle he need to hit the prostate head on. 

Rodney shifted, leaned up, reached to help Carson move John's legs, but he did it one handed, trying to not let go of John's hand. It seemed to work because he was looking at John the moment his expression flooded with surprise and John tried to push back at him with a moan. 

He was incredibly flexible - Carson was sure he wouldn't be able to do this without a lot of help, and he was aware, dimly, of the need not to over stress John's back. 

"Do you want it... fast?" he asked, nearly panting. "John? Is that...what you want?" 

"Yeah. Fast. Fast and good, Carson, please..." He pushed back again, and tried to get more out of Carson before Carson even had a chance to move. And somewhere in there, Rodney snuck his free hand between them, sliding his fingers around John's dick. 

That was all he needed, permission to go for it. He didn't hold back then, though the position and the fact he wasn't completely up to full strength meant that some other time he wanted to do this again even harder. He had the angle right, he had everything right and it felt fantastic, sounded fantastic with the sounds John was making, the way Rodney was murmuring how fucking hot it all was, and the slide of his hand between them. 

He wasn't exactly sure if he came first then he felt the splash of hot liquid against his stomach, or the other way around. It all blurred into one experience not dissimilar to an altered state of consciousness he knew a lot of people would pay a fortune for. 

And he didn't have to. 

He could slouch forwards against John, half consciously guiding his legs down because otherwise he'd hurt, and he heard Rodney murmuring quietly to John, could see their fingers still intertwined. 

"Thanks," he heard John say quietly as he half sprawled over him, and he was pretty sure that wasn't John Sheppard's usual style when it came to sex, and he felt privileged, and obscurely moved by the fact he had been trusted enough by the both of them to let this happen. For Rodney to try his first new sexual experience where his own personal desires had left him with nothing but pain and fear in the past, and John who trusted him enough to face and conquer the fear of fear itself - that he might freak out due to what had happened to him with Kolya. 

And all this time he had wondered why they needed him. He smiled to himself and rested, half sprawled over John on one side, and Rodney moving in to do the same on the other side 

Rodney used his free hand to fish for the blankets, and mumbled something about showering later, but that could wait for them all to have the energy for it. Until they, they could rest and enjoy the kind of comfort they had with each other.

* * *

He'd always thought that his greatest achievements would be small ones.

Not always, no, and Rodney shook that thought off as he was handed a clearance ID with a washed out photograph of his own face on it. Before Kolya, he'd dreamed big, and now he could dream big again, aspire to do more than teach at NIT for the rest of his life. He was doing it, he was there, in a city of science under a mountain.

As the three of them were escorted down into the deeps of Cheyenne and the security grew tougher and tougher, he started to recognize names from papers he had read, seminal research and they weren't just moderately famous people, no he was going to be working with *Samantha Carter*. The authority on everything he dreamt of doing. 

Carson kept threatening to give him a shot, but he was grinning as well as large number of people took time to say how glad they were to see him recovered. The only one who wasn't looking that excited to be there was John. 

Rodney wished he could have done something about that. That there was a way to make John happier to be there, that there was a way to make him see the moment the way Rodney and Carson were, as a victorious moment, a return for Carson to where he belonged, and for Rodney to be where he'd always wanted to be. 

He supposed he could understand it if things genuinely worked out the way John seemed to think they would. He seemed to think reporting back here for duty would mean being sent out again. Away from them. 

He'd been up earliest of all of them, just watching them sleep for a while until Rodney had woken up and caught him at it. But he was sure that they wouldn't do that. They couldn't do that, he needed him here. 

"So now, where are we reporting first? To the General or to Dr Zelenka, or to the Infirmary?" Carson asked as they reached the SGC proper. 

"General, then Rodney gets to meet Doctor Zelenka again." John rattled it off like it was something he just happened to remember, but Rodney knew he'd been going over it again and again. He probably thought he'd get reassigned as soon as they met the General. 

"I'd like to thank Dr Zelenka for being the one to warn Evan about Kolya. Even if I wasn't quick enough to act on it properly," Carson said as they were led down another corridor. 

"You survived. Most of Kolya's targets never saw what took them out," John replied unconsciously straightening up as they approached an office, with the door ajar and some raised voices going on inside. 

"He doesn't need to be here, he needs to be out in the field Jack. That's where he belongs. He'll never be rid of this ridiculous ambition to fly planes if he doesn't knuckle down to some serious soldiering..." 

"Sir, I hate to remind you, this *is* the air force." That must be the general saying that, or else the person saying someone didn't need to fly planes was the general, but Rodney didn't like the sound of that voice. 

John's expression had gone stony and he stopped outside the door. 

"And the rate he's going it's a damn miracle he's made major, even with all the assignments I've pushed his way," the other voice replied. "He needs the opportunity for field promotions, as long as he doesn't completely screw up like he did in Afghanistan. Disobeying direct orders - it's a wonder you didn't bust him down when he got put into your command." 

Under your command, and that cleared it up for Rodney enough for him to step forwards and knock hard on the door. Afghanistan couldn't *only* be John, but the circumstances sounded right. "Sir?" 

The man at the desk, with nearly completely grey hair looked visibly relieved to see them. "Come on in. This is, uh, General Sheppard." He said gesturing to a tall stern looking man, with insignia and medal all over his immaculate uniform. 

"Hi Dad," John practically drawled at him. "Long time no see... sir." 

The fact they had to have heard what he was saying and John's response did not seem to faze the other man. "I see you've managed to bounce back as usual," he said. "I would've thought you should've been fit for duty some time back." 

"Major Sheppard sustained rather severe injuries as a result of what happened," Carson added in as both could see John bristling. "Which aggravated previous injuries that he was meant to be recovering from when he took on the mission." 

General Sheppard stared at Carson. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" 

"That's Doctor Carson Beckett, Geneticist and doctor, and I'm Doctor Rodney McKay, sir, and it's a pleasure to meet you, and a shame I can't do what I've been wanting to do for a while, since we're here to meet General O'Neill. Which I'm *fairly* sure means I can't punch you in the face, but believe me, that doesn't diminish the desire." He turned to the seated General, and held out the papers he'd been clinging to desperately since they'd arrived in the mail. "Sir." 

O'Neill seemed to smirk a little at Rodney's little speech even as General Sheppard looked outraged. "How dare you! Nothing I shouldn't expect. Johnny whining about how hard he's pushed because I care about his career and he doesn't?" 

"With all due respect... sir," John said in a drawl. "It's more like you care about getting me killed rather than my career. Anyway, you are not my commanding officer." He looked at General O'Neill even as Carson muttered. 

"Thank god." 

Rodney didn't give the man one more glance, while General O'Neill took his papers, and glanced over them. 

"Well, it's good to finally have you with us, Doctor McKay. I heard some glowing things about your dissertation defense from Doctor Zelenka..." 

"Wait a moment," General Sheppard interrupted. "You are not seriously going to let them get away with that, and you haven't given me an answer Jack, about what you are going to do with my son?" 

"I'm civilian, sir. There's really nothing to let me get away with. I've certainly met more imposing uniformed men." 

"Okay, as much as I'd like to see our new scientist try to take out a four star general, gentlemen, why don't you both sit down. Why don't all of you sit down." Jack's eyes careened over to look at Carson and John, too, and for all of his seeming good nature, the man meant business. 

Rodney snapped to it, sitting down quickly. John sat down, avoiding looking at his father, Carson sitting beside him, even as the General reluctantly took a seat. He obviously did not like to deal with this sort of situation, used to manipulating where and when he could, although Rodney could not work out if the man actually believed he thought he was doing John some good or not.

"Better," Jack replied. "Major Sheppard is part of my command. He accomplished this mission which should've been easy, but turned out to one on one against one of the most infamous Soviet union Black Op guys who went to ground some time ago. We have confirmed that Acastus Kolya was ...something I can't pronounce Russian but it translates as Black Sickle or Reaper. There's whole lot of people who are amazed by this. Including me. Particularly the fact any of them are alive right now."

"Wait, John took out the Reaper?" General Sheppard looked aghast. "*The* Reaper?" 

Rodney slouched in the chair. It almost figured that Acastus would have some baffling code-name. Reaper. He'd only ever thought of Acastus as his patron, a protector and a partner at best. "He taught Russian history at NIT for the last fifteen years." 

He noticed that even John was looking a bit stunned at his father's reaction. It made him wonder if this was the first time the man had ever acknowledged anything John had done. 

"Reaper was kinda infamous. He never lost an operation, kicked down plenty of ours and was responsible for a lot of things we can't talk about, but notable, supplying nuclear technology into the middle east." 

Everyone knew about that. It was part of world history as it had devastated the region. "Rumor has it he's been freelancing for years." 

"Huh." Rodney swallowed, and crossed his legs loosely. "You wouldn't have known it. I mean, yes, you'd know, but he spent a lot more time reading than he did at the firing range." 

"He was more a strategist and planner at this stage," O'Neill said. "He had contacts to make things happen. Major Sheppard managed to take most of *them* out as well."

John shrugged a little. "Couldn't get Rodney out without disabling all his back up plans. Didn't know I was dealing with Reaper though. Not until after." 

"If anyone knew that Major, you wouldn't've been near the place without a full squad of Black Ops," O'Neill replied with a quirk of a smile. "So, you've got a shiny medal coming your way." 

"Does that mean you're not going to send him off to..." Rodney waved a hand vaguely. Hell, he supposed. There had to be better places for John to be than out doing work like *that* 

"I was thinking of keeping him around," O'Neill replied. "Disobeying orders or not in Afghanistan, the major here managed to fight a Goa'uld and a variety of brainwashed followers single handedly, and I can count the amount of people who have managed to kill one of those snake heads in direct combat on... well this hand actually." Jack waved at them all. "It's a knack I want to keep around." 

Good. Great. That meant he and Carson could keep John relatively close to home, or at least in the same base. All because Acastus had been more than Rodney had thought he was.

"I..." The other general cleared his throat slightly. "That is quite an accomplishment, that you took out Reaper..." 

"Medals and commendations all over the place," O'neill pointed out helpfully. "Look, I need him here at the SGC. We need someone with his range of skills for...rescue missions, for corraling the scientists because not many have his back ground to understand what they are doing. I sure as hell don't. We could use someone who can do test pilot duty as well, because we're developing new fighters that cross atmosphere to space. As his nearly completed project was on that, it means we don't have to waste time teaching a pilot about how it all works before getting them in the sky for tests. That's if you don't mind Major..."

"I, uh, no sir, don't mind at all." He still looked shocked, but fighters that could cross atmosphere to space -- not only was it amazing in theory, but that it was being made a reality, and that was what John had done his work on?

"I can personally attest, and so can Doctor Beckett, that he's great on rescue missions. Doesn't give up." 

"Great." O'Neill said. "Particularly as it's often my team who need their asses pulled out of the fire now that I'm not there to keep an eye on them. So General, that enough upwardly mobile progression for you?"

General Sheppard stood up. "I think it will do Jack," he said. "If you'll excuse me... I have important things to attend to."

O'Neill waited until he left and said in a drawl, "Your father is a prick, you know that?" 

"I know." John shifted in the chair, sat up a little straighter in a way that Rodney knew he recognized. Pure obedience.

"So, uh..." Rodney cleared his throat again. What next, what now, what... 

"Now you go visit Dr. Zelenka and the rest of the geek brigade, but I want you down at the gate room at 14.00 hours," Jack replied. "Part of the official tour, and it's our gap when all the teams should be in." 

Two o'clock, then. Rodney almost started to stand, but caught himself before he did. "And Doctor Beckett and J--Uh, Colonel Sheppard?" 

"Yeah, why not. They always like seeing Beckett up in the lab so he can try and turn on technology for them, and the Major can go with you to keep you out of circulation. You'll need some training John, but nothing you can't handle. Just some new weapons we have access to here." 

Weapons. John was probably going to find that pretty cool, and Rodney just wanted to get up, wanted to see the people he'd be working with and that theory had come to life. 

O'Neill raised his eyebrows at them as no one moved and said eventually. "Dismissed the lot of you. Get the hell out of here. How can I try and slack off with you in here?" 

Carson and John got up, John saluting to the General with a lot more respect than he had given to his father. 

Rodney followed John out, crowded close to them both. He wasn't sure if he was reacting the right way or the wrong way, but he was all bundled up excitement and nerves, and he still had no idea where he was going except for a hope that Carson and or John knew where the labs were. 

"So that was your infamous father?" Carson half asked as they set off down the halls. "But he hasn't been to see you once when you were recovering, or called to see how you were." 

"I think that's because he is John's infamous father." Rodney would have hugged John, but he seemed tight, bristling, and he was fairly sure John didn't want to be mugged from behind at work. 

Later was a completely different matter. John would have him all over him the moment they got home.

"Good point," Carson replied. "General O'Neill rates you though John, that has to be a good thing." 

Had to be. Rodney liked the man's demeanor, just generally felt at ease with him.

"And he wants to keep you here," Rodney added as he tagged along with them. 

"In the loosest interpretation of things," John replied "As from the sounds of it I might be going off world some." 

"Aye, well that's pretty much a given," Carson admitted. 

"Is that bad?" Alien planets sounded like a fantastic fascinating thing to set foot on, even if he was still digesting the existence of Symbiotes and real aliens and human-aliens.

"Not always," John replied. "Depends if I'm part of a team or not. I wouldn't mind being part of a team for a change."

It was pretty obvious he more than 'wouldn't mind' it. 

"You should mention that." He'd do better with a team, instead of being a lone wolf out in the field, because John wasn't. He could be, but Rodney could see him doing amazingly out there with people to help and listen to him. 

He didn't seem to worry so much about himself as he did when he had motivation to survive to get other people out of there. "Yeah, I might," John replied as they took another turn/ "Where are the labs again?"

"Next level up," Carson replied. "This way." 

"Up, or down?" The elevator directions were pretty confusing, with the larger numbers taking them deeper into the complex, downwards. 

"Level 33, " Carson said even as he punched it in. "I spend a lot of my time on 35. That's the gate level and they keep the Infirmary nearby."

"That makes a certain amount of sense." Rodney leaned against the wall, and watched the rows of numbers, as they lit and unlit. "I can't wait..." 

"I'm sure. You remembered to bring all those problems you've been working on?" Carson asked as John lounged against the side of the elevator. 

"Right here." Rodney gestured with the portfolio he'd been dragging with him, pulling papers out of. "My faux homework." 

"Why faux?" Carson asked. "The questions look real enough to me, with my vast knowledge of physics of course." He grinned a little at him. 

"If they haven't already solved it, I'll be surprised, which means it's an effort in redundancy." One of them had been... really just blaringly simple, and not at all what he was trained to do, but the code was clearly flawed, and he was sure once he got a better look at the device, he'd be able to not just fix the flaws but refine it. 

But somehow he doubted that they were even real problems. Even John had walked past one day with his sights set on coffee and just said, "Those numbers look weird," before walking off. Of course he'd done the hard work of working out why but the point was if John could just see it, it had to be examples of problems they had solved already.

The elevator came to a halt and they got out on a level with a high predominance of lab coats and people talking animatedly in corridors.

"Just over here, " Carson guided them to a lab where there was some pretty impressive sounding Czech swearing going on. 

Doctor Zelenka had been Czech, and Rodney suspected that the only reason they hadn't been swearing at each other was because he'd been too tired, too stretched thin. He hadn't even been in peak form, and now...

Now he was. So he took the lead a little, still holding tight to the portfolio, and entered the lab. 

"Ah, Dr McKay," Zelenka turned and beamed at him. "You find me without my many minions... welcome. I have been looking forward to this. Come in, come in. And this is Major Sheppard yes? And Dr Beckett I already know about though I believe I haven't had the pleasure of talking to you." 

"I thought I'd come prepared, so I did work on those samples you sent me, even though I'm sure you've solved them already. It was good to have something to do while we were all recuperating, though." He fumbled with the portfolio a little, but offered Radek the thick sheaf of papers in lieu if a handshake. 

Radek looked surprised. "Through all of them? Some of our people have been working on some of those problems forever. Show me - may I call you Rodney? You can call me Radek. Many people cannot remember the name of Zelenka well."

John chuckled to himself. "Should've guessed they were real problems." 

"No, you're kidding me? These were real?" Rodney twisted, trying to stare at them all over again upside down. "I had them on the coffee table and John, Colonel Sheppard, knew that chunk of code you sent me, there was something off about the numbers it was outputting." Oh, god, it was a little bit horrifying, actually, even if it left him elated, because apparently he wasn't out of his league after all. 

"Then perhaps we should be recruiting Major Sheppard as well," Zelenka said. "I have had people going over that code for weeks. Have not had time to do myself or perhaps would've been done. Many things that need immediate now, now, now you know? Is very complex code. Hybrid. People not always understand how it works and you have found error without having used before!" Radek beamed at him. "Dr Beckett is best finder ever."

John was wandering a little looking with interest at a variety of projects that were in various stages of construction. 

"I'm partial to thinking so." Rodney twisted a little, grinning at John and Carson, half aware that John was poking around. He liked to do that, liked to read files on the sly, even though Rodney knew he was intelligent and John didn't have to hide it from him. "Can I see the equipment the code's being applied to? I really want to get my hands into everything I can." 

"Are you telling me that you have solved all of these problems I sent you? I meant them as indication of challenges we face. Often many come in with full heads yes? Then realize this is more than competition. Is important to know this."

Carson was watching him, even as John 'scouted' the perimeter so instinctively Rodney wasn't even sure John knew he was doing that. 

He just... did it. "No, they're solved. I do want to go over them because I'm not sure they're solved as well as they could be, but they work out right. It's not that I think it's a competition. I've have five weeks of... nothing but time, and the move from NIT to down here. I'm just... used to doing a lot in a day." 

"Yes. Work ethic will teach those here valuable lesson," Zelenka said, leafing through the papers and Carson was just leaning against a table and smiling at him. 

"Supply him with coffee and he will keep going forever," Carson said. 

It was at that moment that a sudden blaze of blue white light issued from what seemed to be a store cupboard. 

Rodney jerked, and saw John just standing there with his hands in the air, gesturing that he hadn't done it. Except, it looked like he *had*, and Zelenka stumbled towards the cabinet, pushing John back, cussing or muttering to himself the whole time. 

"What did you do?" Carson asked moving over to John who was looking a bit dazed. 

"Nothing! I just poked my head in around the door and look at the things in there and there was this light, and..."He looked at them all. "I didn't even touch it!" 

"Dr Zelenka is that what I think it is in there?" Carson called out. 

"Yes, yes it is what you are thinking." He edged towards Radek and John, watched John nudge the door open again and reach for that glowing light. "Think it off! Think it off, Sheppard, we do not want or are needing to send that signal out! Think *off* at it!" 

"Think off? I... uh... okay..." He frowned in concentration and the object went dim and stopped humming. 

"I had to concentrate for nearly an hour to get that thing to come on," Carson said. "And it gave me a bloody headache!" 

"Wait, wait -- you have the, the -- like Carson!" The gene, oh, god, how could he just slip and forget a word like that, after listening to Carson talk about his research. "You have the gene, John!" 

"And we narrowly do not have problem on hand," Radek sighed, taking it from John's fingers. 

"All I did was look in the room," John replied looking bemused. 

Carson was beaming. "John, you and I will be spending a lot of time in the presence of some genetic tests. You've got the Ancient Gene and it's at least as strong as the General, if not stronger." 

Which Rodney hoped would mean that they couldn't' send him off to certain death if John had it. He reached, petted John's upper arm, grinning. "See? This is amazing, all of the files note the rarity of the gene..." 

"There will be much fighting over who gets him first. The General does not like to turn on artifact," Zelenka said. "Where the major turns them on without thinking. This could be interesting." 

"But I don't even know what I did."John tried again. "What was that thing?" 

"We think it's an alliance beacon... last time I turned it on we got some rather embarrassing responses from races we had not even heard of and a few that we had," Carson said sheepishly. 

"It is for emergencies only. I hope that this time they think that stupid Taur'ri turned it on again by accident, because was shut off quickly." Radek gestured at John to back away from where he was standing. "We will make good use of you, Colonel." 

"Well that sounds... mildly alarming," John replied backing away from the room. "There's nothing else like that around here I'm likely to just ...set off is there?" 

"I am not sure. It seems as if you gene is very strong, but without skill and training on utilizing..." Zelenka shrugged. "We will keep you away from ones already noted as dangerous." 

"But there are others that they hadn't managed to get turned on, and they should be done under careful conditions," Carson enthused. "Will you let me do blood tests during it John?" 

"What? Sure." He shrugged again. "Sure, take what you want Carson." 

The geneticist beamed, looking as enthusiastic as Rodney felt about being here. 

Rodney had trouble keeping from grinning, and he looked over to see Doctor Zelenka watching them all. "Carson found John, too." 

"So I am seeing," Zelenka replied diplomatically. "I am foreseeing things not quite going as people would think with you three. But will be better for it. Already from Rodney's work whole department could take week off yes? Will ask you to adapt generator design to naquadah substance. We want highly portable strong energy source." 

"And Naquadah is the exotic material the stargates are made out of, right?" He knew from his reading that it was rare, too, so they must have liked his design enough to trust it to something that hard to find. 

"Yes. There are other forms... naquadria as well, which works as fuel source. You will read data on that, see what will be needed. Ancients though used something much more as power source. Still looking for that." Zelenka said. He glanced at his watch and smiled. "Come. Must leave for gate room." 

Time for it already. Rodney clutched at the portfolio, empty now, and turned to Carson and John with a grin. "This is great. This is every daydream about science I think I ever had." 

"As day's go, it's shaping up pretty well all round," John said. 

"Are you kidding?" Carson said "It's bloody marvelous! I've found a strong gene holder, someone who might be strong enough to allow me to complete the practical application of my own research." 

"Well, to round it out all I need is this hypothetical air to space fighter to show up..." John said clearly doubting it's existence. 

"Oh, the General told you about the 305's?" Zelenka asked. "I'm surprised. He usually only lets people fly the old 302's first. I understand they are very 'fun' to fly. Though is difficult to write that on performance evaluations." 

"You mean they're real? Actually built?" John said and there it was, the same sort of excitement Rodney could feel himself bubbling over with. 

"You should still finish your thesis," Rodney murmured, bumping his shoulder. 

"Yes, you should. And they are real, very real. Still in refining, will be for another year, two, but there it is." Zelenka waved a hand, herding them towards the door. "Move, or we will all be late." 

They moved, jostling back along the corridor to the elevator. 

"I expect they are timing it with one of the teams coming in from off word. So you'll get to see it active," Carson said. "It is remarkably attractive. " 

"I'm still trying to work out why it disintegrates within a certain area in front of it after activation." Reading about it was nothing like seeing it, seeing the real thing, so he was allowed to be as excited as he was, stomach knotted up in excitement. Real wormholes. 

"Is like quantum foam equation simulation. Event horizon unstable and cascade collapses back to stable zone when not supported by naquadah element," Zelenka tried to explain. "We are still not sure as to the 38 minute override either. But. Yes." 

Down a few floors they went, on to a more military populated level. 

"Hey guys, thought you were going to miss it," a familiar voice said and Evan stepped up to meet them. "They're about to dial up for an SG-1 check in at the alpha-site." 

Carson smiled. "You never told me they put you on this level, Evan." 

"Someone had to keep an eye on you three, when John's not keeping an eye on himself." 

"Hey, I've been doing pretty good here. Saw my dad, and I even activated a -- what did you call that, Doctor Zelenka, an alliance beacon? All by myself." He winked at Lorne. 

"You are kidding me..." Lorne stared at him before Zelenka hurried them along. "How the hell Sheppard... no, don't bother. You've got the gene... do you know how many of the guys want the gene? It means when we find more ancient weaponry, you'll be using it." 

"Cool." John replied with a smirk as they made it to the control room just as they heard someone say "Chevron one encoded." 

Rodney would think it all through later. But it was definitely a piece of that that he'd been working on. The Chevrons were all locations in space that helped pinpoint the destination, accounting for drift, and it -- god, it worked. It worked. Rodney leaned a little to peer out the flat glass window that separated them from the room below. 

The gate was spinning in front of them, the chevrons locking while he watched and he just couldn't help grinning at everyone. He'd had a fantastic night, and coming here was everything he wanted and more, and it looked like John wouldn't be sent on any more suicidal mission for the sake of his fathers ego. That had to be good. 

One by one the chevrons locked and then as the final one clamped in place, he *saw* the moment space folded in on itself and he appreciated for the first time that it wasn't like a fabric, but more like weaving with water. A whole host of thought spiraled off from that observation as the event horizon whooshed forward and then settled into a rippling interface. 

Meniscus. He wanted to get down there, touch it, see if it could be pushed back manually, or even, what it felt like... 

And there were people stepping through, a soft schlup schlup noise. 

"Hey guys! Hey... Shep? They let you in here? You know I might just turn round and head back off world. " The man leading the group down the walkway was grinning. 

"Cam? Aren't you meant to be dead?" John replied leaning towards the mike. "Shot down, MIA?" 

"Bad pennies and all that... get your ass down here with your hangers on, so they can meet my hangers on. Sam here is pretty keen to meet your Dr McKay there." Colonel Mitchell nodded towards the blond haired woman crowding in behind him. "Daniel probably wants to talk Ancient with Dr Beckett and I need to introduce you to Teal'c so he can stop beating me up in training and move onto fresh meat." 

Carter, Carter, and suddenly the name pinged to life in his head, and yes, her most recent paper had been on telemetry, but clearly it had the dual use for the Stargate program, and Rodney was out the door and heading down the stairs before he quite knew what was happening because there was more than one brilliant scientist in the place, a real working wormhole, and someone who knew John. 

Carson followed on behind even as he saw John go up to the man he had called Cam and smile and actually give him a hug. "You bastard, I crashed my Blackhawk looking for you... by the time I got back, you were registered KIA." 

"They dusted me off from a coma after a while and fixed me up. Case of mistaken identity on another guy for the KIA. " Mitchell replied and glanced around at his team. "Shep and I flew together a fair few times until he started disappearing under the radar and I apparently died. I should watch that around here. It's a pretty common thing mentioning no names... Daniel." 

The man with the glasses on inclined his head slightly, and Rodney managed a crack of a smile. Dying but not dying. "I'm just glad that there's other people who know John." 

"There's plenty of people who know about you Dr McKay," Major Carter said as she stepped forward. "Radek showed me the transcript of your thesis, and went over your equations you did on the day. I was very impressed. To come all that way on theoretical knowledge only..." 

"Yes well, I sent him our problems logs, and he thought they were homework and has solved them," Radek put in. "And then we let the Major loose in lab and he turn on the beacon by standing near it." 

"Shep, you're a man of hidden depths," Cameron replied and then smiled a lazy relaxed smile. "Got a feeling a report I read about you guys said there was someone's ambition to go through a wormhole. Have I got that right?" 

Someone's... Carson nudged Rodney a little, and he startled. "I always thought they were theory, and I'd, I'd love to have the opportunity to go through some time..." It had to be safe, after all, functional, even if they hadn't created it themselves. The fact that they *hadn't* created the system themselves, well, that probably meant it was twice as safe. 

"Well, I know for a fact it's a nice sunny day at the alpha site," Cameron said. "Who wants to take a stroll to the other side of the galaxy?" He grinned. "That never stops being cool." 

"We need to make sure Vala isn't taking anything else that isn't nailed down," Daniel said dryly. "She should've been behind us but she's obviously distracted." 

"Indeed," Teal'c commented. "If we go now, then it will be a short trip." 

"You heard the man... Shep? You in?" Mitchell asked. 

"Sure... as long as it doesn't hurt," he said. 

"I'm screaming in agony on the inside really," Mitchell replied. "I'm just too damn stoic for words." 

"It's painless, if a wee bit chilly," Carson replied. "Even if the thought of it turns my stomach. I'm in." 

"I will decline." Radek waved slightly, shaking his head. 

"Don't worry about Doctor Zelenka at all. He just doesn't like to walk on Alien planets." That was a smile from Doctor Carter and, and... there were so many people. With names and competencies and a use to a sophisticated program that relied on a network of wormholes, and they were all chatting amiably and Rodney didn't know what to do but shift a little closer to John and Carson. He'd get his footing in time. He'd get used to it all. 

"So we can go through?" 

"We can go through," Mitchell replied and ushered them up the walkway until they were face to face with the rippling blue interface. 

Rodney still wasn't sure how his life had gone from what everyone seemed to think was a living hell, to this abundance of good luck. He had not just Carson, but John as well and just one of them would've been something he would've been grateful to have in his life. He could look to his left and see Carson, his face softened by the blue light, smiling and looking at him because he knew what this meant to him, and to his right, John who was already reaching across to steady him as if this might be too much. 

It was worth it, all of it was worth it. Not many people got to live their dreams but he was, and it wasn't just going to be about stepping through a wormhole. In some ways he'd come a lot further than any wormhole could ever transport him. 

And more to the point, he wasn't alone. 

He put his hand up to the event horizon, felt it give with a little pressure -- and he'd have to research that, have to study it just to sate his own curiosity -- before he put his hand into the cold, and stepped through.


End file.
